


Labels

by Eternalxblossom



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, At the same time, Character Analysis, F/F, Only the best of Ballie, Slow Burn, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternalxblossom/pseuds/Eternalxblossom
Summary: She was pacing back and forth in that same space, running a hand through her hair while the other lightly touched her chest, urging her heart to stop hammering so loudly, to go back to its quiet, composed, numb state from before. It was so loud she could hear it in her ears and every beat spelled Allie.(Bea's thoughts in the aftermath of the kiss in 4x07, followed by a conversation with Bridget Westfall and some much needed missing Ballie scenes. Timing/sequencing differs a bit from canon. Eventually becomes a post 4x12 fix-it fic).





	1. Chapter 1

Frozen and restless, all at once. Speechless yet overwhelmingly loud. Noisy, still abnormally quiet. Cold, yet blazing hot all over. Tingly and numb. Spellbound but so painfully, acutely aware of her surroundings. A war between heart and mind, with no end in sight.

She was good in combat, judging by her flawless track record, but this was one battle she knew she couldn’t win.

Bea was pretty sure she hadn’t made a single movement for the past five minutes. She was still glued to that same spot, staring far ahead, her gaze unconsciously searching for the light blonde locks and impossibly blue eyes that were occupying her line of sight just moments before.

Or was it eternity?

Fuck, she couldn’t remember how long she’s  _actually_  stood there.

_We should get back for the count._

She should, she knew she should, the cheeky blonde had already left after completely turning her world upside down, but, for the life of her, she couldn’t move a single inch. Her muscles had never been so unresponsive in her entire life, in spite of not skipping a single workout since landing in this shit hole. After all, she was a lifer, she had nothing going on, nothing to look forward to or fight for anymore. Right?

_I got you to protect me._

_Everyone I care about ends up dead._

It was the truth. She’d do just about anything for that not to be her reality but Franky was right when she called her the grim reaper in an uncontrolled fit of rage – everyone who got close to her or got involved with her in any way either got hurt or died. Jacs, Debbie, Harry, Brayden Holt,  _everyone._

So when  _she_  completely changed Bea’s, up until that point, carefully designed and envisioned rest of her life in prison, she took her completely by storm because she wasn’t ready for it.  And judging by the way her heart was still beating wildly, threatening to break free from her chest and the way the two sensitive spots on her waist and neck were still tingling like crazy, caressed by a pair of impossibly soft hands just moments before was enough of an indicator that she’d  _never_  be ready.

She not only completely messed up her plan, she completely messed up her  _heart_.

_Nothing’s going to happen between us._

Except, it just did.

And aside from Debbie’s death, nothing had scared her half to death quite like this. And she had seen her fair share of terrifying, she had seen the worst of humanity, both inside and outside. She had  _been_  the best and worst of humanity herself.

But no matter what, all she could focus on now was the best of humanity. That flicker of hope and light. A touch of clarity, maybe even longing. For what, she didn’t know.

_What have you done to me, Allie?_

She asked no one in particular, as she wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her teal pants, her breathing nowhere close to returning to normal. By now she knew she had to go back or they’d send some screw to get her. She hoped it would at least be Mr. Jackson or even Smiles, she could bribe her into not saying a word about her tardiness.

But she still couldn’t drive herself an inch further or force her numb muscles towards her cell. Yet, she had also made some progress.

She was pacing back and forth in that same space, running a hand through her hair while the other lightly touched her chest, urging her heart to stop hammering so loudly, to go back to its quiet, composed,  _numb_  state from before. It was so loud she could hear it in her ears and every beat spelled Allie.

No answer.

 _No one_  ever kissed her like that. And there wasn’t one inch of her body or mind that wasn’t reacting right now.

In fact, she was pretty sure she never had a first kiss. Harry’s rough lips awkwardly and slightly forcefully claiming hers at a loud high school party didn't count. It wasn’t memorable. It wasn’t even all that pleasant but she had started to convince herself, by his third kiss, that intimacy just wasn’t her thing, that it was the way it was supposed to feel. Just.. _nice._ And forgettable.

All of that all but flew out the window in the past 10 minutes when a different set of lips lightly touched hers, when a different set of hands touched her body. Feather-light. So soft and careful it almost broke her. 

This time, the reasons why were vastly different. No broken ribs for once, just the sound of a seal breaking that’s been keeping her sane, but emotionless in this joint, that’s been keeping her ability to feel at bay.

Allie came like a tornado and tore it to the ground.

_You’re shaking._

_It’s cold--_

_It’s not cold._

Maybe it took her aback because it was so foreign, so unfamiliar. All she knew before was hard, cruel, forceful, painful. She had no idea the fireworks cliché was even real, or the need to come up for air because someone just took yours was even possible, or that she could even feel her _own_  skin burning where hers had been.

Allie had kissed her out of nowhere.

Allie caught her arm.

Allie didn't let her go.

No one bothered as much before for a fucking grim reaper.

_Doyle, you poetic jackass._

No, she didn’t just kiss her, she brought her back to life. It felt like she wasn’t just trying to regain her breath for the past 10 minutes, it actually felt like she was rather  _just learning_  how to breathe, like Allie had done CPR on her.

Her lips barely grazed her own, once, maybe twice, she wasn't even sure. She was too busy memorizing Allie’s every feature as she closed in on her – everything went blank afterwards. But she knew, she  _felt_  her hands barely touching her body, like she was giving her all the room in the world to pull away, if she wanted, all the room in the world to push her the hell away, if she wanted.

She bashed her in the showers, she had no problem doing it again.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was too shocked to do much of anything else but barely lean into her, back. 

She had told Allie to back away every single chance she had. She wanted Allie to piss off since the first moment she saw her. Get as far away from her as possible. It didn’t help that Bea bashed her and Allie still tried to go down on her, with a messed up eyebrow and a wild smirk on her face. Not exactly the meet-cute of the century, but it certainly left her…how do the kids call it? Hot and bothered? Not that she’d admit that to anyone.

It made a hell of a lot more sense to just tell Maxine the blonde was weird. Maybe she was. But the weirder part was how _she_  felt getting out of that shower.

No one ever looked at her that  _hungrily_  before, like they wanted her right then and there, like they were ready to fully submit themselves to her even without the imminent threat of danger if they didn't. Come to think of it, she’s  _never_  felt attractive to anyone before. That was why she couldn’t believe _that_  was what the blonde wanted from her – not attack her, not steal information, not shiv her, none of those.

It was almost harder to believe that someone  _wanted_  her, in any way, shape or form, than anything else in this crazy place called Wentworth. She could deal with everything else perfectly fine. The thought of being needed or wanted? Not so much.

Looking back, she wanted to laugh at everything, at all the snarky remarks between her and the blonde, all the times they helped or warned each other when they didn’t have to, all the times Allie flirted with her openly and she unknowingly flirted back, if giving hair tips and haircuts counted as such attempts. But she couldn’t. She was too lost in her own cluttered feelings and memories to even appreciate fine irony at this point.

She had seen the blonde naked and so had Allie. Yet, she felt more unraveled and exposed to everything Allie  _now_ than even on that fateful day in the showers. 

Because now?

Now she couldn’t get her out of her  _head_.

And she was rapidly taking up residence in every forgotten space of her heart too.

Now all she wanted was to feel  _that_  again, to chase after her, call her back, ask her why in the world she did that and help her understand  _why_  she wanted it again so goddamn much.

_I’m not a fucking teenager, for crying out loud._

With that thought, she slowly and reluctantly made her way back to her cell, smirking at Smiles every step of the way. She knew she was late but thankfully the screw stayed quiet. Perks of being Top Dog and all – fashionably late. 

The rest of her cellmates all sent her a look she couldn’t quite decipher on her way back before each retreated to their cell for the night and she suddenly felt exposed like never before.

_Do I look like I’ve just been kissed?_

Fuck, that was so ridiculous. It was all in her head. Yet it was simultaneously all she could think about as she barely drifted to sleep and that moment materialized in her dreams too.

When she woke up the next morning, a little sweatier, more restless, jittery and anxious than usual, she knew she had to do something, aside from making it her life’s purpose to avoid the blonde who must not be named.

She had to speak to Bridget Westfall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wrote itself, tbh, after trying to binge watch the shitshow that is season 6 and only managing half of it. Had to drown my sorrows. #WhatAreTheyDoingToMyAllie #WhoTFisRuby #NewPhone #WhoDis #AlsoMarieIsAPedoBear #BackToBallieDenialLand.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Bea was lying on the couch in H1, her fingers clutching her tea cup so hard she feared she’d break it any second now, her mind a thousand miles away and her heart still caught up in a warzone.

It was times like these that she really hated being Top Dog – everyone from her inner circle and maybe even outside it could tell she was out of it since returning from Westfall’s office this morning, hell, maybe even earlier. Truth be told, she had acted like a jackass to pretty much everyone who dared to approach her, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. The reasons why were, though.

This time around, everything felt different.

She barely ate at breakfast, mostly just moved the cutlery around the plate absentmindedly, fearing she’d throw up if she even tried. She was _still_ acting like a jittery mess in spite of her best efforts not to let it show. There wasn't a single thing that didn't make her snap, from Boomer’s usual antics to the sun creeping through the blinds a little too brightly for her liking to her hair looking like absolute shit.

She didn’t want to ask herself why she suddenly cared about her hair so much more _today_ than on any other day.

And, if that wasn’t odd enough, after her conversation with Westfall, her gloomy mood and preoccupied visage seemed to get worse, yet somehow slightly better too, at the same time.

 _Nothing_ made any fucking sense anymore but, at the same time, _everything_ did. An unexpected turn of events.

She was starting to piece something together and though she was still nervous as hell, at least she wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack like yesterday, in the back of the kitchen, when Allie…

She shut her eyes before giving her mind a chance to conjure _that_ image again. And a dozen others on top that she might’ve dreamed of last night.

Maxine had been the first to pick up on it. She even stopped Boomer from making a “who peed in your cereal this morning” type joke. She knew Bea better than most people, tried to get her to talk, even invited her to join their midday workout to get whatever she had going on out of her system through pure, brute, physical force, if not standard human conversation or connection.

Neither approach worked and Maxine gave up for now, letting Bea to her own devices, which was the messy predicament she currently found herself in.

Bea resorted to closing herself off to everyone for the entire day and, if that wasn’t enough, she was also starting to close in on herself, despite knowing everything in Bridget Westfall’s psycho babble books would probably advise otherwise.

Everyone was out in the yard, the prison was thankfully deserted and dangerously quiet. Oddly enough, the calm before the storm proved to be soothing, it almost provided comfort. It was deadly silent - everything her mind and heart _weren’t._

_I’ve known a lot of women who identified as straight and who fell in love with a woman and panicked._

Fucking Westfall.

Fell _in_ love?

There was no possible way in any foreseeable universe that she was actually in love with Allie Novak. Aside from Debbie and the platonic friendships she’s formed in prison, she was pretty sure she was all out of love for anyone, especially herself.

She couldn't be.

She’s never even known romantic love, at least what she had with Harry couldn’t be labeled as that, not even by the most twisted shrink – it was pure marital abuse, emotional and physical. Plain and simple. And there were more days she’s spent lying awake at night feeling broken and worthless throughout her entire existence than capable of offering love.

She can’t _love_ Allie. She doesn’t know _how_ to.

Does she even _want_ to?

Bea shut her eyes tightly once again, feeling a throbbing headache coming and a painful knot get stuck in her throat. She tried to stop, but she couldn’t do anything to derail the steady stream of thoughts following that same pattern, leading her back to Allie.

Allie, who was also _a woman_.

They were just two broken women, facing hell day by day, both lonely and tortured, dealing with their own demons, living in an even bigger prison than Wentworth could ever dream of being. It was precisely what she told Westfall it was - a gate gay thing, two people looking for _something_ in each other when life had barely given them _anything._

That was all there was to it. Right?

And the fact that when she drowned in an endless sea of blue at breakfast today for a split second, all the air got promptly knocked out of her lungs on the spot meant nothing.

And the fact that the last piece of her recently awakened heart broke and shattered on the floor when the blonde briefly smiled at her and her own eyes unconsciously traced the contour of her lips for a fleeting, fugitive, guilty moment meant absolutely nothing.

Her impulse to avoid Allie’s look and get out of that room as soon as possible, fearful to gaze back and see those pleading, glistening blue eyes laced with hurt and _something else_ as they stuck to her frame like a magnet was also completely coincidental.

_And to those women, I always said - forget the terminology, just be in the moment and see how you feel. Cause if you’ve fallen for someone then…fuck the labels._

Why did she care so much about labels, all of a sudden? She had told Allie that she wasn’t gay. It was the truth – or at least, her previous truth. She had never looked at women that way.

She tried to silence the nagging, yet painfully insightful voice in her head screaming – you’ve only looked at Allie _that way._

Franky was her best friend, Westfall was pretty great, despite pushing all of her buttons during their session today, Allie was..well, _Allie._ She had nothing against gay women, she’s even raised her daughter the same way – accepting, open.

But maybe she was so focused on labels because, throughout her entire life and in all instances of it, _everyone_ had tried to put her into a neat box, tied with a fancy ribbon on top that didn’t allow her to break free from imposed characterisations, thrust upon her with no warning. Each time, she was forced to play the part to perfection.

She never had a say in it and the scars on her thigh were the only indicators of how much that was really breaking her, indicators that _only_ Allie had seen, yet again.

She had seen the worst and the best and she never walked away. Not even once.

At the same time, everyone else had tried to label everything that she did or didn’t do. To most people, she wasn’t even Bea.

She was Bea Smith – convicted murderer and prison escapee.

Bea Smith – abused wife and widow of Harry Smith.

Bea Smith – mother of Debbie Smith.

Bea Smith – Top Dog at Wentworth.

By now, she not only tried to shut that voice in her head telling her that Allie always saw her as _just_ Bea, she was close to begging it to stop _._

Surely Allie must’ve only seen an idealistic version of her that was falsely inspiring and _powerful_ , so powerful that the sheer force of her example was enough to keep the blonde off drugs for good, so important that she’d risk her freedom alongside the Red Right Hand to honor what _she_ did, even if it was in a twisted, backwards way. There was no way she was any of those things outside of the bubbly blonde’s lively, colorful imagination.

She would never admit out loud that Allie seeing so much more in her than she ever did shortcircuted her numb heart for reasons she was tired of fighting.

_So it’s the fear of the Top Dog’s wrath that keeps you clean?_

_Hell no, it’s her strength._

Allie always thought she was strong when everyone else had _labeled_ her as weak _–_ for not leaving Harry, for not getting the job done before she got sent into this hellhole, for not giving Debbie a better life.

No one ever saw her or her story as inspiring in quite the same way Allie did. No one ever used _that_ label to describe her.

Allie might have treated her like royalty at first, sure, but once the fangirl crush wore off, she saw her as _just_ Bea – no expectations, no pressure, nothing.

_I don’t care what you are._

The weight of those words was suddenly too hard to bear for the conflicted redhead. Allie didn’t care, so why did she? Why was she still stuck on labeling things? She sipped the last drops of her cold tea and placed the cup on the table, a little louder than she intended.

_How could anyone put a label on a human heart?_

The sudden noise brought her back to her current situation, as the surroundings became clear again. When they did, her eyes traveled across the room like they knew a path she didn’t, reaching a single spot in the hallway.

_I’m Allie Novak._

Suddenly, the unbearable weight in her chest urged her to move. She had to get away. She had to go anywhere she couldn’t see or think about or, God forbid, run into Allie. Not until she had this figured out, she deserved at least this much from her.

She wasn’t ready, despite knowing that avoiding the blonde wasn’t the wisest or most considerate course of action. This time she simply gave in to the flight-or-fight impulse.

She had fought tooth and nail her entire life. It was time to bolt.

That was the impulse that drove her to an empty laundry room, while everyone else was still outside. She had never been more thankful for that hour of physical exercise – she could finally enjoy the quiet, away from prying eyes, away from the drama and sheer darkness of this place.

Away from Allie.

Fuck.

She couldn’t help but curse herself for not handling the situation any better, as she ran an angry hand through her wild curls, before sitting down on the floor, her back resting against one of the washing machines, carrying and barely supporting the entire weight of the world for God only knows how long again.

She had been picking at the skin around her fingers and biting her bottom lip harshly for the past five minutes without even processing the action consciously, not until she eventually felt the familiar, metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

Coming here should’ve brought her _some_ semblance of peace.

It didn't.

Because _everything_ still reminded her of Allie, from the teal of her clothes to the immensity of the sky.

_„Fucking Kaz and her fucking big mouth.”_

It was then that the sound of a voice she could identify out of a million, alongside the less pleasant sound of clothes and boxes being thrown around carelessly and aimlessly filled her ears. She hadn’t realized how much of a trance she was really into until she was pulled out of it, violently and pleasantly at the same time.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as her mouth suddenly dried out and that same familiar lump formed in her throat.

It was now or never.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen to this before/after this chapter --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jaWy-ECVAU
> 
> Think of Bea's POV, curse me later. Cheers, y'all.

_„Fucking Kaz and her fucking big mouth.”_

She briefly wondered if the sound she just heard was coming from inside her own cluttered head, when the contour of Allie’s frame that she could single out from a dozen others finally came into view. And with that, so did the sheer, vivid anger following and guiding the blonde’s every movement.

Before she could make a move or alert her of her presence in any way, Allie turned around and their eyes met after what felt like eternity, even though it’s only been a few hours.

A few _agonizing_ hours, if you’d ask Allie.

The blonde’s gaze softened instantly around the edges, as she drew a sharp breath, her lips opening and closing in shock, the same lips Bea was tracing with her own gaze, unconsciously, yet again. The heaviness of the moment was quickly lifted when the younger woman sent a heart melting, cheeky smile her way, defusing the situation in true Allie fashion, her heavy accent slipping in.

„Oh, hey Bea. Did I spook ya?”

But despite her usual show of confidence Bea has come to know and recognize during the short time she’s known her, right now she wasn’t fooling anyone, especially not the redhead studying her intently from head to toe.

She could feel Allie exuding uncertainty, her movements suddenly a lot less driven, more fragile instead, almost _fearful_. Bea's heavy, focused look did nothing to ease her state of mind or nervous outer visage. She didn’t want to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe she had hurt her, that Allie was scared to get close to her again, fearing that Bea would run away or even bash her for what she had the audacity to do.

But then again, she never thought she’d see the day Allie Novak was nervous around _her_.

The same girl who tried to go down on her the moment they met. The same girl who flirted with her 24/7. The same girl who always made the first move. The same girl who _kissed_ her yesterday.

Oddly enough, that same girl was now pacing back and forth and biting her lip, unsure of whether or not to come closer. She took one or two cautious steps in the older woman’s direction, before blurting out an awkward “I could go if you want, I didn’t know anyone would be here, I don’t wanna intrude—“, her eyes barely leaving the floor.

She had never looked more beautiful to Bea than in that moment.

Because she was only like that around her and _because_ of her.

„On my very important activities? Don’t be stupid, come here.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes playfully, sarcasm dripping from her every word, as she patted the seat next to her, urging her jumpy company to join her on the floor. Her previous thought had made her feel warm and fuzzy inside and, for once, _she_ had to be the brave one.

She tried not to feel hurt when Allie finally sat down, but maintained an odd distance.

_Do I even want her to move closer?_

She shook her head before allowing her own share of anxiety to slip in, taking note of the blonde playing with her hands in her lap, her mouth opening and closing again with no sound coming out.

She had no idea what to say.

As if reading her mind, Bea broke the ice, instead.

„So, what happened with Kaz?” – the redhead asked, almost seeing the wheels turn in Allie’s head, barely proccessing her words, as if Kaz was the furthest thing from her mind, even though she was yelling profanities about her just moments before.

„Kaz? Oh, yeah..she was just talking shit, again. It pissed me off so I had to go before I did anything stupid. Better lay into those poor boxes over there than her face, eh?” - she joked, her forced half smile not quite reaching her eyes.

„I love her, I do, It’s just, she _never_ stops.” – the blonde’s hands unconsciously balled into fists by her sides, the action doing little to soothe the anger slipping through every word of her mini-rant.

Bea could sense that rage radiating off of her and before she could process the action consciously, her hand lightly tugged at Allie’s elbow, trying to soothe her somehow. The younger woman’s eyes followed hers in an instant and time seemed to stop right then.

Bea felt the weight of that gaze from her head down to her toes, so she did the awkward obvious – cleared her throat, retreated her hand as if it was burning and spoke again, much too quickly.

„What’d she say?” – she asked in a breathless tone, almost innocently, and the vibrant honesty staring back at her told her all she needed to know. „She was talking shit about _me_ , right?”

The younger woman nodded mutely, digging her nails into one of her palms hard without notice like she was hearing Kaz’s voice in her mind all over again. She almost drew blood when Bea caught her arm, rather roughly this time.

„Hey, you gotta stop doing that.” – she commanded, and Allie immediately stopped inflicting pain on herself, at least the physical type, that is.

She’d do just about anything Bea asked of her. It should make her feel weak or pathetic but right now, she only felt _alive._

And all of that without crank shoved into her veins, for once.

Bea’s look softened as she inhaled sharply, all fears be damned. She wordlessly took the blonde’s hand in her calloused one to stop her from hurting herself, her thumb running imaginary circles alongside the soft skin she found there.

„I don’t need you to defend me. I can defend myself.” – she said, softly, but firmly.

She was ready for anything but the soulful blue eyes before her starting to shimmer with unshed tears.

Allie didn’t even notice the subtle change, but she did.

„I know you don’t. You don’t need me, you never need anyone.” – Allie said, letting out an almost strangled smile, as if the words she just spoke physically hurt to be verbalized.

_But I need you._

She was _this_ close to saying it but stopped at the very last second, biting her lip painfully in the process. She had no right.

Bea had told her before that she didn’t want to be the reason why she didn’t shove crank in her veins. And judging by the way she’s been avoiding her like the plague, Allie was also sure Bea didn’t need her _at all._

She was starting to think she made a big mistake last night. She should want to take it back but she didn't. Maybe she read all the signs wrong and this was the beginning of the let-me-down-gently speech.

_You could’ve at least had her as a friend, Novak._

If she didn’t mess everything up, that is. But could she? If there was one thing she knew for sure it was that it would _never_ be enough for her.

Bea Smith might be the love of her life.

Because she had felt more free and alive in the past few weeks here, with her, than she had during all of her miserable years on the outside.

„But she still had no right to say those things. She doesn’t even _know_ you.” – Allie continued with such certainty and sheer _outrage_ , it almost broke the last of Bea’s defenses right there.

Almost.

Not like Allie knew her. Or at least like Allie _thought_ she knew her.

„And you do?” – Bea asked, and the incredulous manner in which she said it prompted the blonde to do something, anything to prove a point.

„ _Of course_ I do.” – Allie clarified, before taking a deep, frustrated breath and grabbing both of the redhead’s wrists, her grasp firm, yet surprisingly gentle, considering the circumstances.

Bea’s last shred of denial fell to the floor before her, about the same time a shot of electricity ran through every inch of her body. Allie was breathing life into her all over again and she probably had no idea she was even doing it.

„And I know you are _everything_ she says you’re not. You’re brave and beautiful and _kind._ You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Bea felt her entire soul crack and shatter with every one of those words. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the blonde laying all of her cards on the table for the millionth time or the shimmering ocean blues before her displaying nothing but pure love and _adoration_ or even the fact that no one looked at her before and saw even a tenth of that.

She had no idea her own eyes mirrored Allie’s, in all the ways that mattered.

„But I know I’m not to you, so...” – the blonde spoke much too quickly in a half voice, sighing as she let go of Bea’s hands with a heavy heart, her eyes suddenly glued to the floor like it was the most interesting sight in the world.

The next words she verbalized and the pure resignation piercing through every letter as she did crushed Bea in a way nothing else in her life ever did.

It hurt more than all of Harry’s hits combined.

„You don’t have to keep avoiding me. Message received. I’m sorry for last night, if you want me to take it back, it’s done. But I was kinda hoping you’d still be my friend?”

An olive branch. Allie was offering her an easy way out, the coward's escape, the chance to erase the last 24 hours, the most _confusing_ 24 hours of her entire life.

For the last time, she stubbornly tried to silence that small, small voice telling her that those were the most tragically perfect 24 hours she’s had in forever, the only highlight of her miserable, routine filled days at Wentworth, where nothing but grief, regret, pressure and anger kept her company.

Last night, it was the first time in a long time when nightfall greeted her with actual dreams, pleasant ones, not gruesome nightmares and haunting visions of the all the things she’s done.

And it was all because of the shattered, hopeful woman before her, who _still_ smiled at her, who still nonverbally reassured her, when it should be the other way around.

_She was achingly beautiful._

„You’re not a friend of mine...remember?” – Bea joked in spite of herself, her words mirroring her previous speech in the bathroom, not too long ago, when she cornered an unsuspecting, yet oddly cooperating Allie after her conversation with Mr. Jackson.

The only change now was the way she said it - there was no trace of fire or fight in it anymore, her tone was playful, encouraging even, coated in just a subtle touch of tenderness - her own way of extending an olive branch.

Allie smiled back, weakly. She would have laughed if she remembered how.

After a long, tension-filled pause, the most unexpected words filled the blonde’s ears along with a void in her heart that she’s had _forever,_ since her dad kicked her out like trash and the world decided to show her only its darkest parts, selectively. And they were coming from the lips she was currently staring at openly, in sheer, unadulterated awe.

She made no apologies for it anymore.

„I don’t want you to take it back."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I deserved to see this in canon. Your mum deserved to see this in canon. The whole world and their dogs deserved to see this in canon. So, I’m providing the much needed public service the devils at Wentworth writing room couldn’t. 
> 
> P.S. The more I hate-watch season 6, the more this writes itself. Enjoy. :)

_„I don’t want you to take it back._ _“_

“You don’t?”

The tragic hope and disbelief in her gaze and voice was enough to finally strip away _everything_ holding Bea back and _everything_ holding her together.

Allie suddenly felt like that first breath of fresh air that fills your lungs, shocking you back to life after being submerged underwater for God only knows how long. She hadn’t even realized she was drowning, not until seeing the shore and realizing there was something else on the other side, another path to be taken.

For once, she stopped swimming against the familiar current that kept her under for years, stopped listening to anything else but the sound of her own desires, desires she didn’t even know she had or _could_ have. The noise was loud, overpowering every last bit of reason she had left.

She _needed_ Allie to kiss her again.

It shook her to her very core to admit just _how_ much.

“It’s the last thing I want, Allie.” – was all she managed to say, the last shred of bravery she still held.

It all came out no louder than a whisper but Allie heard it down to the last syllable, every echo resonating intensely against the throbbing walls of her heart, still lingering heavy in the monumental quiet of the room long after the noise died out.

And when Allie’s gaze locked with hers, utterly perplexed, not quite believing she heard her right, with a million unspoken questions and something else dancing in her eyes yet again, Bea had to look away.

The entire prison trembled before her but she’s never felt quite as small as she did now.

„So then what _do_ you want?” – the blonde asked in the gentlest tone she could muster, slowly and cautiously inching closer to her, like she was still, on an unconscious level at least, preparing for a crushing blow that was yet to come.

Wordlessly, she took hold of the redhead’s trembling right hand, tracing the contour of her every knuckle, every scar like she was a mystery she was dying to unravel.

„ _Please_...don’t make me say it.” – Bea all but begged, her voice coming out so shaky and quiet her equally torn company had to strain to hear it.

But she did.

„Then show me.” – Allie whispered all the same, her other hand reaching and stopping at that familiar spot on Bea’s neck that she’s touched the last time.

She drowned in the glistening brown eyes before her, eyes that hid more pain and anguish a single human being should ever have to bear on their own. She wanted, _needed_ , more than any other time, to shelter Bea from the entire world, a world that was _never_ worthy of her.

Allie’s heart dropped right then and there when her simple gesture of affection was met with a strong shiver and a sharp intake of breath, followed by the most heartwarming sight she’s ever seen in her life, one she never thought _she_ could cause.

Bea shyly ducked her head almost submissively, leaning into her touch like a lifeline, no trace of the former Top Dog to be found.

Allie had no way of knowing that it was the most anyone’s done for her. _No one_ touched her like that before. That realization and the space between them shrinking with each passing second wasn’t lost on Bea.

„I don’t think I can.” – she struggled to speak once more, reluctantly pulling away from the younger woman's touch and closing her eyes almost painfully, dreading to see the hurt staring back at her.

This time, Allie saw right through her.

„I think you do.” – she encouraged, her usual confident tone making a triumphant return. „Here, I’m gonna move closer and you have to _promise_ my eyebrow stays intact this time.”

The playfulness of her voice and the sheer Allie-ness of what she said made Bea smile wider than she had in weeks, followed by an uncontrolled fit of heartfelt laughter. When she felt the blonde’s weight shifting again, as she scooted closer to her, this time she didn’t even flinch.

„No promise.”

And when Allie laughed back, sending the most breathtakingly beautiful smile her way, she felt like the entire weight of the world got lifted off her chest.

„You wound me, Bea Smith.” – Allie crossed her heart with an X, dramatically, still chuckling to herself. „That really hurt, you know.”

„Yeah, well, you had it coming.” – Bea laughed along, unconsciously leaning into her side as she did.

They fell into an easy banter again, the previous heaviness of the conversation wearing away, like the clouds make room for the sun after a raging thunderstorm. If only the clouds looming over Wentworth every day could do the same...

It was the first time Bea wished she wasn’t a lifer. She thought she had accepted that, even made peace with it, but something about the way Allie was looking at her now was strong enough to make her reconsider everything she knew before. Maybe she did want more out of the rest of her life - what that was, she still didn't know exactly.

Allie laid her head on Bea’s shoulder, both of them looking far ahead, slipping into a comfortable silence, as their joined laughter slowly died down, one carefree beat at a time.

„You’re right, that _was_ over the top. Can’t help it around the pretty ones. Y’know, on the outside they used to call me Allie chick magnet Novak.” – Allie broke the sudden magic of the moment in true dumbass fashion, earning another genuine laughter from the woman beside her.

„Fuck off, _no one_ called you that.” – Bea said, incredulously, turning towards Allie on instinct, finally taking note of just _how_ close they were.

The realization left her oddly calm this time – she was still jitery and nervous but there was also a brand new sense of eagerness, excitement and hope creeping in. Dangerous hope to have in a place like this. Allie made her smile more in 5 minutes than she had during all of her years at Wentworth.

„But they sure thought it, Bea.” – Allie tapped her index finger to her temple twice for emphasis, a Cheshire cat grin spreading all over her beautiful face.

Bea looked at her once more, her heart suddenly too big for her constricting chest.

It was then that she realized she might be _in love_ with Allie Novak after all.

As if on cue, their twin smiles died down at the same time and they both felt that same, magnetic pull towards each other from before. Come to think of it, maybe it was there from the very first day, just waiting for a signal to be unleashed for good.

„Come here.”

The blonde’s gentle voice jolted her from her unexpected reverie and slowly, but surely, fed the slow burning fire inside of her. This time, she didn’t have it in her to run away or even attempt to put it out. 

So she didn’t.

„It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. I’m not gonna let _anyone_ hurt you.”

That was the last thing she heard before she felt Allie’s soft hands touching both sides of her face and that same heavy gaze from before connecting with hers, as if she was _begging_ her to see how much she meant it.

And when Allie’s soft lips touched hers again, just as gently, tentatively and undemanding as yesterday, she did more than just stand there, motionless. This time she melted into her and shyly reciprocated, sighing and burrying her hands into her sun-kissed locks, holding her in place, fearing she’d vanish in a puff of smoke if she didn’t.

For what felt like forever, she forgot about everything that hurt, everything she couldn’t stop, change or control. Suddenly, nothing in the world seemed to matter anymore, nothing _but_ Allie.

„Are you alright?” – a breathless voice eventually whispered against her lips, pulling her away from her trance, before the owner of that voice reluctantly withdrew just a little. „Is this okay?”

The unfamiliar, heart-stopping darkness she found in Bea’s eyes as she did was enough to pull Allie over the edge right there. She saw no hesitation there, just pure _want_ , and she wasn’t ready for how that would make her feel. Then again, no one ever wanted her without something in return - whether it was paying for her services or grooming her like Marie did, fooling her into thinking _that_ was the way love was supposed to feel.

It didn't even scratch the surface of what she was feeling now. And even with all of her fake bravado and genuine confidence in what she was doing, she was still taken by storm - this was new. It was just as much of a first for her too.

„Yeah, yeah...”

„Good.”

That sight did _something_ to her, so powerful that it sprung her into action in a flash. And before either of them could process it, that familiar cheeky smile made its way back onto Allie’s face. She moved with a lot more purpose this time, testing the waters. She almost lost her train of thought when Bea met her halfway, with a lot more urgency and desire than either of them expected.

„I should..I should go before Kaz throws another fit.” – Allie shuddered in between heated kisses, biting her lip to stop an embarrassing moan from coming out.

The way Bea was tracing her every move was enough to crack her resolve, but she knew she had to go. Break time was almost over and the prison would soon be bustling with activity again, and not the pleasant kind she was currently engaging in.

„I’ll see you around, yeah?” – Allie croaked, clearing her throat almost awkwardly, her voice coming a lot more breathless and raspier than she expected.

She had a shit ton of experience with women and men alike but _no one_ ever left her so hot and bothered from kissing alone. If she didn’t leave _now_ , she wasn't sure she’d be able to keep her hands to herself much longer. As much as that thought excited her, it would have scared off the one person she'd do anything not to scare off.

Especially when she got her this far.

_What is she doing to me?_

„My eyebrow thanks you for the lack of injury today.” – Allie let out a stifled joke, as her breathing slowly returned to normal. She bumped Bea’s shoulder playfully, before resting her weight on her arm, pulling herself off the ground and dusting her pants.

„You are _such_ an idiot.” – Bea shook her head, hiding her much too bright smile, a smile that seemed so out of place on her.

As the younger woman was getting up to leave, pouting like a kid who’s just been told they need to turn the lights off and go to sleep right when they were having the most fun, an idea instantly popped into Bea’s mind.

She wasted no time to act it out.

„Okay, come back here for a second, will ya?”

The blonde raised that same eyebrow she was looking at, forming a quizzical look, completed by a pair of pursed lips. Allie was staring at her like she suddenly grew two heads, but she turned around anyway. 

„Why?”

„Just shut up and stay still, yeah?” – Bea commanded, before lifting herself off the floor too, inching closer to a perplexed, yet equally eager looking blonde.

Allie’s gaze flashed from confused to aroused to lovesick in a matter of seconds when she heard Bea breathing in nervously then felt her warm hands on her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the older woman not only erased any witty or smooth comebacks on the tip of her tongue, she also erased every word in her vocabulary when she did.. _that_.

Bea gave her look she couldn’t quite figure out inching somewhere between focused and mesmerized, as she gently traced the faint scar on her eyebrow with her fingers, before leaving the softest, feather-light kiss there, on the same spot she bashed in the shower tiles weeks ago.

„What was that for?” – the blonde whispered, completely and utterly spellbound, before her face broke out into a huge grin.

„You wouldn’t stop talking about your stupid eyebrow.” – Bea replied, simply, smirking back just a little. Two could play that game.

„What eyebrow?”

_„Finally.”_

At last, Allie did move towards the exit, albeit a lot less enthusiastically, neither of them taking note of a spying Joan Ferguson not too far away, creeping in on them and listening a bit too intently to their conversation.

The blonde was almost in the hallway by the time Bea called out to her once more.

„Hey, Allie?”

Allie turned around in a flash, her body reacting to her before even her mind did. She could never say no to that voice, even more so after today.

”Thank you.”

„What for?” – the younger woman asked, not able to stop the genuine smile tugging at her lips, as she leaned against the doorframe, a lot more seductively than she realized.

Or maybe, just maybe, she was doing it on purpose.

„You know..just..”

Bea fumbled for words, inwardly cursing the smirking prisoner before her who almost looked like she was enjoying it. Who was she kidding, she was probably enjoying every second of it.

_Everything._

She couldn’t say it. Thankfully, Allie read between the lines. She always read her like an open book.

„No problem. I’ll see you around, _beautiful._ ” – the blonde added with a deliberate drop in tone, winking and tipping an imaginary hat her way like the true gentleman she was. „P.S. Kitchen duty’s lonely so come say hi sometime.”

The little pet name she allowed to slip out caused Bea’s heart to do somersaults right there and she suddenly felt lighter than she’s been in years.

As the younger woman's frame faded from view, she couldn’t stop smiling shyly to herself and ducking her head to hide her blush like a schoolgirl with a crush.

_Maybe I am a fucking teenager after all._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to do one of those time-skip thingies in a fic so here we are, hope it’s not too choppy. Another scene I deserved to see and so did you, beautiful reader. This is what happened off-screen and in this essay I will--
> 
> P.S. This chapter is a lot longer cuz I needed to get the last of season 6 out of my mind and rinsing my eyes with bleach was not an option.

Bea was pretty sure she was all out of guilt and shame by this point but it was all she could bring herself to feel, as she gazed at Allie’s peaceful frame on the bed, her chest faintly rising up and down as she breathed, calmly, with an almost angelic glow to her. It was such a far cry from the tortured, angry but most of all wounded mess from before that she could hardly believe that was the same Allie.

 _Her_ Allie.

She only had the luxury of calling her _that_ in her head now. Because she lost the privilege to say it out loud about a million wrong words back. She wanted to cry _so_ badly she could feel a knot steadily rising in her throat, almost choking her. But she wouldn’t let a single tear fall – if there was ever a time she felt the need to be strong for someone the most, it was now.

She hadn’t felt that urge in a really, _really_ long time, not since Debbie, that is.

As she gently laid the blanket on the blonde like she wanted to shield her from the entire world, she felt the overwhelming need to clutch her own heart to stop it from bleeding so profusely. As luck would have it, no muscle in her stubborn body would see to her request. She simply stayed glued to that same spot, focused on nothing _but_ Allie, like her mere presence was grounding and wrecking her, all at once.

And yet, if witnessing the picture of tragic perfection that she was contemplating so wistfully, the entire outside world would snicker in disgust, roll its obtuse eyes at it and pass poisonous judgement onto every frame in a heartbeat.

The only labels they’d use to describe the tortured beauty before her would be _junkie, lowlife, scum,_ _waste of space_ , a stain on the perfect outline of the world, so far away from what _she_ had in mind now - someone who was fighting _so hard_ to live, to chase the demons away for good, kicking and screaming and hurting but still breathing.

Then again, she took the side of that vile world when she, too, reduced Allie to those attributes. She had said _unforgivable_ things to her.

_Lying, junkie street whore._

She wanted to rip her own tongue out of her mouth, wanted to hit herself harder than a drunk Harry ever could. Because she had been worse than the entire world, she had delivered blows that cut deeper than razorblades, she had approved of the _same_ world that decided _her_ labels were _murderer, avenger, stone-cold killer_ , even _psycho_. Or, if you were on the more fake-compassionate side of the spectrum – _victim, abused_ or _tortured_.

In spite of her heart-wrenching remorse, she couldn’t go, couldn’t leave Allie, curse her, push her away, insult her, _nothing_.

She wanted to stay by her side like she would die right there if she didn’t.

She had no right to but her heart called out to Allie with every frantic heartbeat and, lately, she hadn’t be very good at denying its wishes. So, she took a deep breath and slowly crawled next to her, holding onto her waist just to make sure she was still there, in hopes of putting them both back together.

She listened to Allie’s steady breathing, counting every puff of air she inhaled and exhaled, the rhythm finally calming her down, silencing her own demons. She studied every inch of the blonde’s features with more love than she thought was humanly possible to hold for what felt like forever, from the curve of her jaw to her perfect eyelashes, sheltering eyes that saw her the way _no one_ else ever did.

She wanted to throw up.

Because she didn’t deserve any of this. She was starting to contemplate leaving Allie’s side in spite of every impulse in her body screaming otherwise, when the same eyes she was thinking of just moments before slowly opened and focused on her, filling her entire soul with even more dread and self-blame but also a sense of _happiness_ and _relief_ like no other.

Because Allie was right there with her. She was breathing. She was okay. She didn’t OD.

And her eyes were as beautiful and inviting as she remembered them, albeit the light in them significantly dimmer now, more exhausted, barely flickering.

There was no one to pin the blame on for that but herself.

„Bea..?”– Allie called out her name in a faint whisper, her hoarse, shaky voice a painful reminder of the screaming match she put it through earlier tonight. „You stayed...”

The blonde’s sheer disbelief at seeing her there, in the flesh, blended with just a touch of gratefulness tore Bea to shreds on the spot. _Of course_ Allie would think she’d leave her out like trash and completely abandon her for good. She almost did.

„Guess I did.” – Bea replied, simply, suddenly feeling too small under the weight of that gaze.

„But I am _so_ gross right now, how can you hold me?”

Just like Allie to get all self-conscious right now, of all times. She wanted to weep again because it was _so_ her. Because even now, Allie cared more about how _she_ saw her, after all the things she’s said and done.

_Get the fuck out of my unit, while you can still walk._

_This is the last time I save your ass._

She shouldn’t. She bloody shouldn’t.

With that thought in mind, Bea reluctantly moved away from Allie just a little to see her better, letting go of her waist and lifting herself up on her elbow.

„I don’t care.” – was all she let out - too little, too empty.

„Really? Even after puking my guts out and going all The Exorcist in here?” – Allie scrunched her nose cutely in response, taking another piece of the redhead’s heart in the process.

„You could never be gross to me.” – Bea countered again, a lot more lovingly than she realized, her fingers itching to remove that slick strand of hair that just fell onto Allie’s face, blocking her vision as she moved.

Maybe she just ached to touch Allie’s face, to feel her there. But she had no right to. And before she could react, Allie did the job for her.

„Uh..yeah I could. Ya wanna test that?” – Allie’s joke barely sliced through the unspoken tension, her pale lips curving upwards slightly, but Bea knew better.

It wasn’t _her_ smile. It wasn’t even a shadow of it.

„I mean it, Allie. Plus, you’ve seen worse.” – Bea said, the overwhelming responsibility and fault in her chest almost suffocating her for good, setting her in motion.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She had to do _something_.

„What do you mean?” – Allie asked, genuinely sounding like she had no idea what Bea was talking about.

But she did.

„From me. What I said, what I did to you. I’m _so_ sorry.” – Bea rambled, frantically, rubbing her hands together and finally imposing some much needed distance between her and Allie, to match the physical to the emotional one in a perfect recipe for disaster.

“Oh, you mean when you called me a quote unquote _lying junkie street whore_?”

Bea flinched at the sudden accusatory tone she was receiving, carefully masked under a seemingly calm delivery. She felt every word leave stabbing pains everywhere from her eardrums down to her heart. It hurt more than all punches Harry ever landed on her, all self-inflicted wounds or attacks anyone attempted on her life at Wentworth, all at once.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before, Bea, don’t sweat it. The whole world decided that’s who I am and I’ve accepted it.”

The hopeless tone and resignation in Allie’s voice tore a hole right through Bea’s heart for reasons she finally understood. She should know better than anyone else. After all, she was the poster child for _“victim of labels and circumstance”_ herself. And in a lot of ways, so was Allie.

But in a split, reckless moment, she sided with that same cruel, unforgiving, _wrong_ world that put her behind bars and protected her abuser, the same people who condemned the junkie and not the drugs, the enablers, the entire fucking universe for making them _need_ an escape in the first place.

“I just never thought _you_ would only see that when you look at me.”

The sheer heartache and disappointment displayed on Allie’s open, honest face knocked Bea off her feet right there. If she wasn’t sitting down, picking at the skin around her fingers anxiously and aimlessly, she was pretty sure she would have fallen over.

“But I don’t Allie, I _don’t_ , I swear --“

Her pitiful reassurance fell on deaf ears this time around.

And with that, the small seal that still held Allie’s anger and heartbreak that steadily boiled underneath the surface over the past few days shattered and everything came pouring out – raw, loud and much harsher than she intended to say it.

“Then _why_ did you say that? You _knew_ what that would do to me.” – Allie all but growled at her.

“I—I don’t know, I--“ Bea’s voice came so small, etched in nothing but culpability and anguish, barely above a choked whisper.

Allie pretended like she didn’t even hear her small intervention, no longer stopping the avalanche of hurtful words of her own from slipping out.

“You _knew_ you’re the only person other than Kaz in this fucking place, this fucking _world_ that I _ever_ gave a shit about. How could you think I’d play you? I _worshipped_ you.” – Allie shook her head incredulously, punctuating every word, every syllable coated in nothing but venom and disappointment.

She regretted the words the instant they were out in the open but there was no way of taking any of it back now.

“Because I was weak, alright? I was weak.”

After what felt like forever, Bea finally gave her something, a _reason,_ her voice still quiet, dripping with unbearable _shame_. Allie blinked once or twice, ready to call her out on her bullshit, not able to stop another incredulous scoff from coming out.

“You, the great Bea Smith, weak? _Please.”_

“But I was..” – Bea countered, uncertain at first, swallowing painfully. “I was..” – she repeated again, more steadily and more to herself like a mantra, like she was going _somewhere_ inside her cluttered head. She was finally piecing _something_ together that she should’ve known a while back.

“It was easier to think I was betrayed by a lying—“

Allie visibly flinched at that so she swallowed the last of those venomous, hideous words for good instead of verbalizing them, swearing to herself that she’d never, _ever_ speak such vile things again and especially not to the last person in the world who deserved to hear them.

“By someone like _that_..than the woman I—”

_Shit._

Bea bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop _whatever_ she was about to say from coming out, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. She would’ve given _anything_ for the floor to swallow her whole. Right about then would’ve been just stellar.

She needed to evade the all knowing blue gaze studying her so intently, least she’d fall apart.

“Fuck..” – she cursed under her breath, seemingly more to herself again, as she ran an angry hand through her untamed hair, before lifting herself off the small bed, hiding from Allie in more ways than one.

The walls of the tiny room were suddenly closing in on her, suffocating her under the crushing weight of everything she’s _still_ not saying. She wasn’t just weak, she was the picture of a goddamn coward.

She couldn’t. She wasn’t worthy of Allie anymore – not with the weight of the compassionate look she still felt burning holes in her back when she deserved the _complete_ opposite.

Allie should want to nail her to a wall. Why isn’t she?

“I don’t deserve you, Allie. Not after the way I treated you. I never did. I didn’t have you moved here or got you off the gear because I think I do.” – Bea eventually said, breaking the unbearable quiet of the room, heavy with nothing but tension, every word coated in her own share of resignation and maybe a touch of _truth_ too.

“I’m no better than Kaz. I’m no better than anybody.”

The blonde had to look away – the sight before her was too heart-wrenching. And not even the throbbing pains of withdrawal she was _still_ feeling could ever compare.

“I did it for me. And I _know_ that’s selfish. But no one ever…” – Bea choked once again, her eyes starting to water without notice. “No one ever did _anything_ for me without expecting _something_ in return like protection or conjugal visits or, or---“

She was just about to get lost in her own head once again but promptly stopped, forgetting what she even wanted to say when Allie looked at her _that_ way again. It was the same honest, pleading look she had in the bathroom not too long ago when she said… _that_ to her.

She looked just as shattered, battled and bruised as then – in more ways than one.

“And you..you saved my life..you saved my _fucking_ life, Allie, when you didn’t have to.”

_And I never gave you anything._

“Maxine believed you and I didn’t and I’m _so_ sorry.”

“I knew I liked her.” – Allie sniffled, barely smiling as her own tears steadily fell down her ghostly pale face.

“She’s great. And she likes you too, by the way.” – Bea tried to smile back but only managed a pained grimace, angrily wiping her eyes like she didn’t _earn_ her right to cry.

So much for being the strong one.

And when Allie’s genuine smile this time only grew wider at the mention of Maxine’s faith in her, at _someone_ in this world believing the junkie for once, Bea came undone.  She hasn’t seen it in _so_ long she almost forgot what it did to her.

“I guess it was easier to believe someone like Kaz over her or you because.. “ – Bea took another deep breath, wracking her brain in search of the _right_ words to explain herself. “Nothing good ever happens to the grim _fucking_ reaper, right? Everything I touch dies.”

“Don’t…don’t _ever_ call yourself that again.” – Allie said, firmly, no trace of doubt in her words.

And without notice, without a single sign of hesitation, the blonde lifted herself off the small bed too in one swift motion, facing Bea and effectively trapping her.

But, like the stubborn woman-child the redhead could be too when she wanted to be, she wouldn’t hear any of it, instead crossing her arms defensively.

“But it’s true—“

“No, it’s _not_. “ – Allie interjected once more, this time punctuating her words with a cautious, gentle touch of Bea’s elbow. “People don’t die because of you, unless they deserve it. And what happened with Debbie wasn’t your fault, sooner or later you’ll have to stop punishing yourself for that.”

“That’s not what I’m doing—“ – Bea tried again, but it was a futile attempt. The blonde’s certain tone left no room for arguing, not anymore.

Allie wouldn’t have any of it.

“Yes, it is. Every day. You might not shove crank into your veins but that’s _your_ escape. And you think pushing people away or hurting yourself is the answer when the monsters get too loud in here..”– Allie’s voice softened by the end of her speech, her trembling fingers reaching up to touch Bea’s temple as it did. “But it’s not.”

The blonde took a strangled breath, a small part of her wondering if she was even allowed to do it anymore, before she dismissed that thought altogether and grabbed both of Bea’s hands, effectively silencing any protests still on the tip of her tongue.

Every gesture of hers nonverbally screamed _I dare you to push me away._

“It’s not.” – she repeated, much stronger this time. “It doesn’t solve anything. I would know.”

This time, Bea completely melted before her, unaware of just how much love she was hiding too, under every swirl of tortured brown in her eyes.

No one bothered this much for the grim reaper. Again. No one but _her_.

“And I’m not going anywhere, Bea. This is the only place I ever really wanted to be. “ – Allie added, a serene, mesmerized, almost faraway air surrounding her all of a sudden.

“You mean prison?” – Bea made a small, pitiful attempt at a joke and Allie rolled her eyes, playfully, allowing a small chuckle to pass her lips.

“You _know_ what I mean, dickhead.” – Allie clarified, her expression switching from mildly amused to deadly serious in a matter of seconds.

Bea needed to hear every word and _actually_ listen this time around. She had to know there was _one_ person in this world who didn’t see her as thunder, chaos or death. More like beauty, strength and hope.

“And maybe you think I was high as a kite when I said it but…I really wasn’t. And it had nothing to do with Juice punching the crank out of me, _literally_.”

Even if it was the most grossly inappropriate time, Bea couldn’t help it - she laughed, straight from her soul. Because _only_ Allie would find humor in that.

The sound promptly silenced the blonde, leaving her gaping like a lovesick fool for a split second before she cleared her throat and smiled back, quickly composing herself. She was a _Novak_ , cold feet were not part of the family heritage, only homophobia, abandonment and the parenting skills of a shoe.

 _“You_ sobered me up. And I _do_ love you, Bea. I couldn’t lie about that even if I wanted to.”

“Allie—“

“Don’t..don’t feel like you have to say anything to that, alright? I just wanted you to know.”

In spite of Allie’s earlier words, Bea still opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ of value or meaning to match the sheer beauty of what she heard but it suddenly felt like all the words she knew got erased from her mind, died on the tip of her tongue or got stuck on her lips, all at once.

She wasn’t ready for how she’d feel hearing _that_ the second time around, for how it would short-circuit her heart and fill her with a warmth that spread all over her body, freeing her for the first time in years from a prison worse than _anything_ Wentworth ever threw her way.

She was pretty sure _that_ was the first breath she’s taken since her daughter died that didn’t linger heavy on her chest.

“Thank you for not leaving. Most people would have.”

And with that, Allie put the final nail in her coffin, rendering her speechless right there.

This time, she did cry. She couldn’t help it.

“I’m not..I’m not going anywhere either. Never again.” – was all she managed to say, suddenly finding herself grabbing Allie’s arm a lot rougher than she intended, like she was desperately trying to prove a point. “I promise you.”

“Good.”

And when Allie met her strong hold with a much gentler one, taking both of her hands in hers and tracing imaginary circles on her palms, just settling for the sheer calm of her presence and not expecting _a single thing_ from her for the millionth time, the tears only kept on coming.

_I love you._

_That’s a shame._

She couldn’t do it. Not again.

Fuck what she deserved or didn’t. She would love Allie with her last breath. _They_ deserved this.

“Hey, Allie?”  - she whispered, her low, hoarse voice cracking audibly as she did.

Allie’s focused, mesmerized gaze instantly shot up from their joined hands to meet her brown eyes. She gulped nervously and shyly retreated one of her hands from the blonde’s grip and lift it up, stopping at the junction of her neck and collarbone to caress the soft skin there, before tracing every strand of golden she could grasp.

Allie shivered and breathed in shakily, but she also smiled brighter than the sun.

“Yeah?”

It was then that she decided she never wanted to see that smile fade. So, she made sure it didn’t by saying the right words, for once, effectively soothing the unbearable ache in her own chest, replacing it with _something else,_ something that didn’t hurt.

“I love you too.”

She thought Allie couldn’t smile brighter than before, but boy was she wrong. She pictured the Cheshire cat from one of Debbie’s favorite movies right then and more tears fell, like a waterfall. At least they were happy tears.

“Yeah?"  - Allie’s voice cracked too, as her world stopped spinning on its axis right there.

It was _everything_ she wanted to hear from the moment she heard about this amazing woman on a forgotten, beat down TV at the shelter and it gave her a purpose for the first time in her miserable life. The same person who was now looking at her in all the ways she’s ever wanted someone to.

For once, she didn’t feel like the junkie, the whore, the younger (and prettier, if you’d ask her) member of the Red Right Hand, the disowned lesbian daughter of a pitiful excuse of a parent, she only felt like _a woman._

And not just any woman but a _loved_ one.

“Yeah..”

“Are you um..are you sure? Cuz you don’t have to humor me or anything—“– Allie rambled incoherently, momentarily pondering upon lifting her hand to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn’t still asleep somewhere covered in gear and misery.

Before she could do just that, the same woman she was thinking of earlier caught her hand and laid the softest kiss there in reassurance, like she just _knew_ what she was thinking. Not a moment later, those same lips were on hers, confirming that _this_ was actually happening.

“You kissed me. You’re kissing me. I told you I was gross.” – Allie protested in between eager kisses, feeling self-conscious once again.

She was covered in sweat and tears and a glow she’s never had before. To Bea, she was anything but gross right now.

“We’ll get you into a shower first thing in the morning, if you just shut up about that already.” – Bea muttered, a bit annoyed, before claiming her lips again. This time, the lovesick blonde was happy to oblige, her hand traveling down Bea’s waist, tracing every scar and familiar curve like she was making sure she was real all over again.

“Feisty..I dig that. What’s with you and the showers, Bea? Had any dreams about me in there lately?” – Allie winked, suggestively, running her tongue against her teeth.

Bea would’ve playfully hit her right there if she wasn’t too busy hiding a blush that could rival the color of her hair. That and she was also becoming such a _sap_ for everything Allie. What did Juice call her, again? Soft because of her Polish Princess? Maybe the hag was right after all, with a slight tweak – it was more like the beauty and the beast – prison edition.

“Just go to sleep, horndog.” – Bea grumbled again, the sound of her voice partially blocked by the pillow she was currently crashing her face against, unlike the giddy blonde next to her who seemed to be on a different kind of high this time around.

“But you _looove_ me. “ – Allie drawled in that thick accent of hers, like the petulant child she was. “I can’t sleep _now_. Not when it’s getting good.”

“You want me to take that back?” – Bea asked, seriously, lifting her head off the pillow just a little to glare at her, as a stubborn curl fell upon her face.

“I’d die. I was just about to write it in my journal, don’t take that away from me.”  - Allie pouted, lovingly fixing her hair and Bea faltered like the whipped mess she was, her glare disappearing as quickly as it graced her features.

“Then sleep, you doofus.” – she cooed, her hand running circular motions along the blonde’s arm and waist to soothe the hyperactivity out of her. Thankfully, it seemed to work, judging by the way her every move seemed to melt her on the spot.

“Okay, okay.” – Allie eventually said, calling a truce. “Come here.”

“I _am_ here.”

“I meant come _here,_ dumbass _._ ” – the blonde clarified like it was the most obvious request in the world, gesturing to her open arms that suddenly felt so empty without Bea’s frame there. “Jeez Bea, read the room a little, why don’t ya?”

Bea rolled her eyes to the back of her head, suddenly aching to wipe that stupid smirk off her face. Since no shower tiles were available, she decided to kiss her to shut her up.

And it worked. For a second.

“Hold me? _Please?_ ” – the blonde whined against her tingly lips, pouting like the woman-child she was. “Since we’ve established you’re not grossed out by me and all. Don’t wanna sound needy cuz it’s really not sexy but I _missed_ you. I also need to feel you here so I know I’m not dreaming. Pathetic, I know—“

It was the furthest thing from pathetic, if you’d ask a lovesick Bea currently looking at _her_ woman-child like she just hung the moon. Despite the awkward, jumbled delivery, it was _still_ one of the most endearing things anyone’s ever said to her.

So, in response, she planted the most loving kiss on _her_ rambling idiot’s forehead.

“It’s not. And I missed you too. I’m here and I’m not leaving so just close those beautiful eyes for me, okay?” – Bea uttered, gently, not able to stop the small yawn from passing her lips.

“Or you’ll do that yourself?”

So much for a truce, Bea thought. Allie winked, seductively once again and this time Bea did take the liberty of lightly punching her in the shoulder.

“Idiot.”

She giggled like a school girl, before burying her head in Allie’s neck, hoping the darkness in the room was enough to cover her blush.

She could almost feel Allie’s smirk against the crown of her head.

_That little minx just can’t help it._

“Night, Bea.” – was the last noise she registered, before she felt a familiar pair of lips against her temple and sleep finally claimed her.

“Night, Allie.” – she smiled to herself, squeezing Allie’s waist back just a little tighter.

She had to make sure _she_ wasn’t dreaming, either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Listen to this before/after this chapter because every line was written about them in 4x12, I would not lie to you.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBuif8IAOKo 
> 
> P.S. If you love Allie Novak as much as I do, I'm sorry in advance.

_13 stab wounds._

_Life support._

_Coma._

_Internal damage._

_Several punctured organs._

_Severe blood loss._

_Heart stopped._

If it wasn’t for the steady beeping of the machine next to her, confirming the opposite, she could have sworn her heart stopped all the same, about the moment the buzzing in her ears settled just enough for her to _hear_ that last sentence.

Allie felt every echo leave stabbing wounds that matched those of her fallen soul mate, knocking every last bit of air she still had left in her fragile lungs along the way. And it wasn’t long before everything around her faded into nothingness.

In a heartbeat. One she still had and _cursed_ because she didn’t deserve it.

Everything her shot senses could still perceive morphed into a muddled, indistinct chaos, spinning her around in a confusing haze, drowning her under every blurry picture.

Everything felt so far away, from the bleak contour of the flickering lights in the hospital room to the nauseating smell of medicine making her sick, the glistening, compassionate hazel eyes before her getting more fuzzy with each passing second down to the shaky, strained, distant sounds of Franky Doyle’s voice _still_ speaking to her of things she could not decipher anymore.

It took her an eternity to grasp the ravaging weight of _those_ words and what they meant. She felt the entire world stop spinning on its axis as it shut into oblivion, replaced with nothing but bone-crushing silence and suffocating emptiness, as it slowly, but surely lost every streak of color it ever held.

Bea Smith was responsible for the _only_ semblance of color she ever knew in a world that only presented her with misery, abandonment, hurt and pain before - and now everything was going back to the status quo, to its natural, lifeless, soulless form. In a staggering, swift move, it went from screaming color and vibrant, lively shades to a dull black and white, inhabited only by demons lurking in its shadows, waiting to prey on the innocent.

The color was now turning into a memory she was mourning with every fiber of her being, one she called out to endlessly with no answer. Because there was nothing she could do to see it again, no matter how many times she closed her eyes.

Her numb senses only began to react when she felt a nauseating, metallic taste in her mouth from all the blood she drew biting her lips and tongue and cheeks harshly in an unconscious form of self-punishment, no scream coming out despite everything inside of her roaring, kicking, shaking, trembling, _bleeding_.

Another reminder that _she_ was alive and breathing while Bea was still clinging to her life.

The universe was playing the most twisted, cruel and devious joke on her. On any other day, she’d appreciate the fine irony in that. A final blow to join the other fifty thousand it so gracefully offered her since she opened her eyes and took her first breath in a family that never wanted her to in the first place.

Every _inch_ of her was bleeding and those _fuckers_ wouldn’t take a drop of her blood.

Something about her being too weak and fragile. Something about her just getting out of a coma, followed by a long string of irrelevant medical lingo she couldn’t be bothered to retain a word of. Acute respiratory syndrome? Was that what they called it? It didn’t fucking _matter_ , for crying out loud.

Those _fucking_ assholes wouldn’t _listen_. They wouldn’t hear a word of her pleas even if she crawled on the floor before them, begging and yelling at them from the top of her busted lungs that could barely carry the sound to let her _do_ something while the love of her life was bleeding out in the same damn building as her.

She wanted to fight the entire _goddamn_ world for not letting her at least see her, if not attempt to rescue her. She wanted to curse everyone who opposed her dying wish to let her own blood run through Bea’s veins and shake her back to life, the woman who saved and breathed life into her so many times in the past, long before she even knew she did.

Long before Allie herself knew she wanted to live and not choke herself in gear to forget.

Bea gave her a touch of a life she didn’t need to escape from. And she couldn’t give her _anything_ in return now.

She wanted to throw up.

She would have, if she had anything in her stomach other than a crushing, devastating emptiness. She had never felt more desperate, physically sick and powerless than right then.

She wanted to crawl her way through every single wall so cruelly separating them, even if it meant punching through every blend of cold, emotionless steel and concrete with her bare knuckles, even if it meant fighting every single person who wouldn’t let her reach her destination along the way.

She was in no shape to physically oppose anybody but she’d make her body listen with her last breath, if she had to. She wanted to rip those handcuffs apart that suddenly felt like invisible chains restraining and holding her captive in this hellhole or _fucking_ bite them off if she had no other option.

Right now, Franky Doyle’s hand gently grasping her handcuffed one was the only obstacle to setting that plan in motion. And _something_ told her Franky was feeling at least a half of what she was. The brunette’s lips were still moving but she couldn’t register a word of what she was still saying to her.

Because she had never felt more immobile and useless than in that hospital bed. She had never felt like more of a prisoner. And she had been stuck in more brands of hell than most people see in a lifetime, she had seen worse horrors than it was humane or acceptable for anyone to.

She couldn’t silence that voice in her head loudly protesting that she had no right to feel even the slightest bit sorry for herself when Bea had surely seen even _worse_ than her.

Bea, who was, on any conceivable moral scale, a much better person than she could ever hope to be, the last soul in the entire universe who deserved those fucked up hands she was dealt in life over and over and over again.

There was no romanticism about this, no glory or poetic justice, no tale of a tragic hero, no trace of surreal beauty buried amongst all the darkness and pain, shedding its healing light upon it.

It just wasn’t fair. None of it was.

It was so _devastatingly_ wrong that Allie needed, with every fractured piece that barely kept her together, to hold the match herself and set the entire world on fire, stand by and watch it burn to a crisp in suffering and flaming agony for ever allowing the circumstances to unfold the way they did.

If there was a higher power anywhere, Allie wanted to destroy it with every thought, curse and last bit of strength she held for ever giving Bea, who was all soul such a soulless treatment, rewarding her for feeling _so much_ with only the worst of all feelings, with more tragedy and horror than anyone should have to carry around with them forever.

The entire world had given Bea a weight forcing her down the same bottomless pit she’s been trying so hard to escape from, while watching her fall again and again in manic, psychotic enjoyment, standing back on the sidelines and patting itself on the back for a job well done.

And for what? To repeatedly tear her down just so she’d become the monster the world loved to _label_ her as? To wash itself off of any responsibility and let her rot behind bars for finally getting the much needed justice the same backwards world never gave her?

That same world had more of a contribution in putting her on a _fucking_ hospital bed now than a freak like Joan Ferguson ever could, who was, by all intents and purposes, a pawn herself in a much larger and even more twisted cosmic game.

And why? Because she could take it? Because she _deserved_ abuse and grief and pain and violence and a lifetime behind bars? Because she deserved to take the fall and pay the price and step up every single goddamn time, just because the ones who should’ve done it in the first place never owned up to it?

Why was she _there_ and Allie _here_?

The universe was one sick bastard indeed.

What use would her blood be to her when Bea saw red, when her heart stopped a million times over before they managed to bring her back? What use would it be to her _now_?

She was bleeding out all the same.

They should just _fucking_ take it. Take her heart and give it to Bea. Take all of her internal organs and give them to Bea. Take everything she had left.

She couldn’t _live_ without her. All she had now was a heartbeat, not a heart.

And not even Kaz holding her hand like a lifeline what now seems like ages ago, relieved that _she_ was back in the realm of the living mattered in the slightest. Nothing did. Since Franky Doyle of all people delivered the news to her, everything turned into meaningless hollow, the world kept running its course in blissful ignorance while she wept.

She couldn’t remember how many agonizing minutes or hours or weeks or months had passed. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw the sun, heard anything other than that horrible, scratchy beeping or smelled anything other than chlorine in the air.

People came and went, too frequently for her liking, talked to her, tried to shake her out of her self-imposed, denial-induced haze with anything they had on their disposal, from heartfelt speeches to gestures of affection but she barely said a word back.

She barely returned anything she was given. She was in no position to give anything to anyone, least of all the person she loved the most. She had turned to nothing when she had barely been _something_ in the first place.

Maybe her dad was right all along when he kept throwing definitive sentences about her life, when he repeatedly let her know, verbally or nonverbally, that she’d never make anything of herself. Maybe he was right when he said she’d fail at everything – being straight, staying sober, not ending up in jail, showing gratitude to him for throwing her out like trash..

Daddy dearest would throw a _goddamn_ rave right now, seeing her also fail at the _one_ thing she wanted to get right – save the love of her life.

She couldn’t even do that. She couldn’t even protect her at the right time. She failed again like the failure she was. But this time the knowledge buried her under the worst cloak of guilt and remorse known to man because it _mattered_.

Because she failed _her_.

Still, amongst the loud chaos and self-blame in her cluttered head, she vaguely remembered a psycho babble speech from Bridget Westfall about life and death and grief and hope in the face of all adversity.

Franky Doyle’s words, on the other hand, she recalled a little more steadily - “ _I have never seen Red as happy as she was when she talked about you. Don’t you dare give up on her, blondie, if you’re even half the woman she thought you were.”_

Same for a more frail and pale Maxine Conway than she’s ever known her to be - _“She never looked at anyone the way she looked at you, darling, and I don’t think she even knew it. She loves you so much. Be strong. I might not be here anymore, she needs you.”_

On the other hand, she barely heard the nurses’ frequent updates on her condition and mostly tuned them out. _Her_ life wasn’t even in the neighborhood of important.

From all the medical terms, she could make up that she was getting better. Though, she still felt fragile and she was definitely still in no shape to move anywhere, not without a walker and supervision, or take too many breaths too rapidly without causing her lungs to burn and set off a coughing fit. She hated herself for being this weak when every bone in her body urged her to be strong.

For Bea.

Hours passed, days passed, maybe even weeks with no news of _her_ condition being delivered to her other than the clichés  – _“she’s still in a coma, but we managed to stabilize her.”_ or _“she’s a fighter” or “most people wouldn’t have made it, but she survived.”_

It could have even been months – her sense of time had all but disappeared since she got permanently stuck in an endless loop, relieving her worst nightmare every second of every day.

Screw all of that. Screw surviving.

Bea, of all people, deserved more than _just_ survival, she deserved to live and be loved and protected and cherished for the rest of her life. And if Allie ever got a change for a do-over, she would hold onto it with everything she had left, she would _never_ mess up on that front again, as royally as she did when she let her out of her sight.

She’d die before she let anyone else get close enough to hurt her again.

Because Bea deserved more all along than to risk everything just to put a psycho behind bars for good instead of the skewed justice system whose sole responsibility should’ve been that – to uphold the fucking law. She deserved more than to suffer alone and cling to her life because she tried to get revenge for hers.

Part of her wanted to _curse_ Bea into oblivion for doing what she did because _her_ life was nothing, _her_ life was not worth the sacrifice, any sacrifice whatsoever.

Each passing second in this godforsaken bed made her feel like hell was now her holiday destination and she was in for the longest stay of her life. She was drowning in overwhelming silence. And silence has never been this deafening before. It was driving her mad but she had no strength left to voice it anymore.

She was pretty sure she lost her own voice the moment Bea lost hers. She lost her breath the moment Bea took her last dying one. She ached in all the places the Freak stabbed Bea, every inch of her skin matching her scars, scars she never deserved. And, just like her fallen soul mate, she too now lived somewhere in between two worlds – numb, yet still breathing and fighting, barely.

Bea saved her life a million times over and she couldn’t do anything to save hers, back. She never thought _that_ would be her definition of hell.

It was then that a sudden noise from outside her room cut through the monumental silence from before. Instinctively, Allie’s tired, bloodshot eyes followed Kaz’ approaching frame. Her returning visitor and the only real mother figure she’s ever known briefly sent a strained smile her way, before placing a fresh bouquet of flowers on her bedside table.

They had to have been pretty but she couldn’t make up a _single_ color.

Wordlessly, Kaz grabbed a chair and took a seat by her side.

“Hey bubba…” – she greeted, her voice cracking audibly despite her superhuman efforts to control it. Seeing Allie like this gutted Kaz in more ways than humanly possible – she thought she had seen Allie in the worst shape of her life but nothing she’s known before could ever compare to the picture she was witnessing now. “How are you?”

Allie’s eyes briefly met hers in acknowledgement, before they fell upon the floor, dejectedly.

No answer.

Kaz had never seen so much hopelessness and so little light in those eyes and she knew the extent of the horrors and pain they had observed firsthand better than anybody. She wanted to cry but she couldn’t. She was the last person in this entire _goddamn_ prison who had the right to.

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen to the sound of my voice, can you do that for me? Just know that I’m here for you, kiddo, anything you need.” – Kaz continued in the gentlest, most comforting tone she could find.

Allie answered with a pained nod, swallowing the stubborn knot in her throat, the dryness making it feel like sandpaper, as they both fell into a silence bordering between comforting and suffocating.

“You know, I never got to tell you but.. she uh…she beat the living crap out of me.” – Kaz voiced out after a prolonged pause, letting out a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Bea.”

The older blonde couldn’t have missed the faintest return of light in Allie’s eyes at the mention of the redhead even if she wanted to.

“When she thought I hotshot you or knew anything about it.” – Kaz added and her heart broke with each unshed tear taking space in Allie’s eyes. “She was furious but _so_ scared, like I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen her. “

At that point, she felt regret pierce through her, leaving a visible, ever-lasting mark that would haunt her way past this visit. They cared about each other. Far more than she wanted to admit or see before.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see it, Allie. How much she loved you, too. How much she _loves_ you. I can’t hate her or blame her for that, no one can.”

If Allie still had a soul left, she could have sworn it ripped out of her with every word of Kaz’ speech, leaving her body in torn, scattered pieces bleeding all over the floor.

“Don’t give up on her. She didn’t give up on you, I can promise you that.” – Kaz punctuated with a lot more certainty, like she was begging Allie to listen. This time, the tears did fall from the wounded blonde’s eyes but she made no gesture to stop them or even acknowledge their presence.

She simply laid there motionless, no guns blazing anymore, no fire. She was the image of utter defeat.

“I can’t do _anything_ from here.” – Allie croaked, eventually, her voice coming out strained from lack of use and heartache but still carrying a layer of undeniable, stifled  _anger_.  “I am _useless_ to her now, Kaz. _I_ should have died, not _her._ ”

“Don’t say that, Allie.” – Kaz interjected in a flash. “I’m _relieved_ to have you back.”

Something about the vibrant honesty in Kaz’s speech made Allie’s chest clench even tighter with survivor’s guilt.

“I’m not—“

She shouldn’t be _here_ and Bea shouldn’t be _there_.

She might have a skewed perception of right and wrong but even she knew _that_ was so painfully wrong.

“And she will be too when she wakes up.” – the older blonde interrupted once more, with a practiced calm and bravado, finally making any and all protests still on Allie’s lips falter and turn quiet. “ _Don’t_ let her down.”

And with that, the ever-present knot in the younger woman’s throat only tightened its grip on her but, for the first time in days, weeks even, she also felt a sense of slow-burning hope and determination gradually creep in, rising from the ashes.

She needed to pull herself together. For _her._

“I’ll be back later and if I find out anything, you’ll be the first to know, okay? I love you.” – Kaz said, before planting a warm kiss on Allie’s forehead, squeezing her hand in reassurance one more time and walking away.

_A lot of things scare me._

_I’ll protect you no matter what._

Out of the blue and all at once, from underneath the wreckage, it was those words that emerged, the only echo that finally grounded her.

Because Bea was scared out of her mind but she never gave up on her.

She couldn’t lose hope _now_. She had to return the favor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What really happened after 4x12. It’s canon now because I said so, just go with it.
> 
> (Inspired by one of my favorite One Tree Hill episodes, taken to the next level for everyone’s favorite prison wives.)

All she remembered was the sky, painted in swirling shades of blue, adorned by a few lost, wandering clouds drifting aimlessly, coming together in odd shapes. She could have sworn, from the striking similarities, that it was the exact sky she was contemplating a lifetime ago when she sat on the grass with a cheerful, carefree Allie like it was just the two of them against the world, laughing about…

Seahorses.

She saw seahorses then. She was pretty sure she was seeing them _again_ , but it might as well be her imagination playing ugly tricks on her. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She had no viable justification but, for some strange reason, she couldn’t even tell where she was or how she got there. It suddenly felt like her sense of time and space burned to ashes, leaving fractured memories behind, glimpses of the past and present, mixed in with some sort of dream sequence.

But if she was dreaming, why did she feel so wide awake, so _aware_? Why was there a steady beeping ringing in her ears? It had to be her heart doing somersaults. Truth be told, she _was_ starting to feel rather anxious and agitated.

Before she could even contemplate the truth or lie of that previous image, the clear sky she was scanning in quiet longing and admiration disappeared like the cruelest illusion designed to taunt her by taking her to her happy place just to rip everything apart in a New York minute.

The frames shifted before she could even get a chance to catch a breath or take them in. Everything went blank for a few seconds, before a darker shade of blue took its place, settling behind her optic nerve, the stark contrast almost blinding her.

She could smell the salt in the air, feel the steady pressure in her lungs and the movement of the waves crashing against her arms and torso as she swam against the current. She tried to gauge her surroundings but she was only met with endless streaks of blue, as the stretch of water spread before her eyes, with no clear end in sight. Miles after miles of nothing but sea.

She scanned the area again, moving with a lot more urgency in the opposite direction this time, feeling a sense of dread creeping into her heart. Eventually, she saw a glimpse of the shore in the far distance and exhaled in relief.

In true karma fashion, that single moment of much needed solace was short lived, like everything that ever brought her solace. As she got closer and closer to the shore, the hectic puffs of air she barely drew got knocked out of her lungs swiftly, almost brutally.

_Debbie._

Without a moment’s hesitation, she started to swim with the speed of a hurricane, urging her unusually tired and frail body to carry her to the shore, calling out to her daughter with all the strength she still had left, the sound of her voice coming out so scratchy and desperate it almost didn’t feel like hers.

A step away from the land, she came face to face with another image, one that left her breathless again, this time for a whole different set of reasons.

_Allie._

Her back was almost fully turned on her but she could recognize that beautiful, angelic profile, that familiar frame and those glossy blonde locks anywhere. Instinctively, she called out to Allie too as she rushed to her side like her life depended on it.

Her heart shattered the moment she realized she couldn’t see her daughter anymore. She scrutinized the entire area, as far as her eyes could see, but there was nothing but sand and steady waves, no sign of Debbie anywhere, like she was a ghost that vanished into thin air or a figment of her imagination that never existed in the first place.

But there was Allie. _She_ was there. In the flesh. And she was…

Crying? Why was Allie crying?

Feeling her chest tighten with each unsteady, wobbly step taken in the broken blonde’s direction, she cautiously moved closer, unconsciously placing a comforting hand on Allie’s shoulder, her body moving on impulse before her brain even got to process its request. Seemingly out of nowhere, she _ached_ , more than any other time, to be greeted and soothed by those tender, expressive blue eyes that she loved so much.

But the woman beside her made no move to acknowledge her presence whatsoever. She seemed transfigured, almost lost, gazing far ahead aimlessly, like her body was there but her mind wasn’t, and there were tears dripping from her eyes, falling steadily in endless streams, not so subtle indicators of how long she’s _actually_ been crying.

Bea was on the verge of yelling at her again or shaking her or doing _anything_ to get a reaction out of her torn soul mate, when she noticed Allie’s hands. They were clutching a bouquet of white roses, beautiful white roses, holding onto them for dear life, apparently not feeling even the slightest bit of pain as the thorns stuck to her palms.

Her favorite flowers.

She tried to draw her attention again and again but Allie was still numb, practically immune to her presence. How was that even possible?

She thought there was nothing in the world that could sting or burn every inch of her quite like the realization that Allie no longer knew her, until she involuntarily followed the blonde’s gaze, needing to know _what_ she was seeing that got her so turned around.

_Bea Smith. Devoted mother of Debbie Smith. They loved each other to the moon and back._

At that precise moment, she finally registered the strangled cries of the blonde beside her, like she had _just_ been restored the ability to hear.

The sound alone could have killed her instantly, if she wasn’t already dead.

She would have given anything to be able to comfort Allie, cradle her into her arms, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, _anything_ to stop the bleeding and the unbearable load pushing on her chest. She never could stand seeing Allie hurt. And especially not because of anything stupid _she_ did.

Like die. _Apparently._

But she felt inert, frozen, almost embedded to that single spot, urging herself to avert her eyes from Allie’s shaken form but failing miserably, as her hand covered her mouth in a futile attempt to silence a grueling, ravaging gasp tearing out of her. She felt physically sick, like every part of her was choking, like someone was sticking poisonous needles into her every tissue.

As the images began to morph and shift violently once again, her sickness got replaced by pure dread. It couldn’t be happening. Not _Allie_ , she couldn’t lose _her_ too.

She called Allie’s name in utter agony, hopelessly extending her arms to touch, grasp or feel any fragment of her frame but she couldn’t reach her or sense anything, she couldn’t feel the faintest trace of the blonde’s soft skin underneath her fingertips or the smell of her shampoo or the familiar warmth of her body.

_No answer._

She tried again and again, through tear-stricken eyes - she couldn’t leave Allie even if she didn’t even know she was there, even if she couldn’t hear her calling. The blonde couldn’t see her but _she_ could and that sight alone made her want to crawl her way out of that Godforsaken grave with her bare knuckles.

But she couldn’t be in there….and in here too at the same time, right?

She was starting to think that maybe this was all just a twisted nightmare brought on by her own demons and fears, a horrendous freak show that would end as soon as she’d wake up in Allie’s embrace again, right where she belonged, right where she just _was_.

She couldn’t forget that even if she wanted to – the way Allie made her feel, _everything_ Allie gave her that night. The way she touched every inch of her body and soul with an almost practiced tenderness, blended with just the right amount of passion, like that rhythm was solely reserved for her, so soft and _careful_ it almost destroyed her. Or maybe, just maybe, glued all of her broken pieces back together.

Because it was _the most_ care and devotion anyone’s ever shown her.

Allie left her mark on her with her lips and fingertips like she was the only person in the world who was allowed to touch her like that from that point forward, who knew just how much she needed it. She had her so cautiously and lovingly the memory alone could have stolen her last breath, if she hadn’t already lost it.

At least she still had _that._ It didn’t feel like something she could let go of, not even in her most grotesque nightmares. It would stay forever ingrained in her, embedded onto every corner of her mind. It still dared to stand tall as the most vivid and beautiful recollection she held amongst all the turmoil and confusion.

Allie freed her then, she could do it again. She would erase all of this, make it better, pull her out of _whatever_ this was.

Just as she began to warm up to that thought, allowing it to pass a tragic bit of hope with it as it traveled from her brain down to her heart, the surroundings changed again, wrecking her without notice.

The realization finally hit her with the force of a thousand falling bricks – this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare, this had to be the worst type of _hell_ she had ever been in. And she had seen plenty of them, she thought she got up close and personal with every shade of darkness known to man.

 _Until_ she was greeted by this one. If this wasn’t hell, it surely got awfully close.

She saw white this time around. A hallway. Blinding light in her eyes. Flaming red. Blood everywhere… _her_ blood. A screw jacket as a make-shift bandage pressed onto her wounds. Doctors and nurses rushing in. Her own body on a gurney, the governor’s concerned face, a desperate Will Jackson grasping her hand in his larger one and the manic symphony of mixed voices screaming in her ear.

_“Stay with me, Bea, stay with me.”_

_“Miss Smith, it’s Dr. Young, can you hear me?”_

_“Bea, it’s the Governor, you’ll be alright, hold on.”_

_What the hell happened?_

Eventually, the maddening echo of voices shouting her name stopped for a single moment, enough to be replaced by something else, by a different set of cries. She could recognize the sound out a million and, if not anything else, _that_ made her heart stop.

“ _I should have died, not her.”_

_Allie._

Of all the voices in her ear, she couldn’t tune that one out. Her mind had to have played tricks on her just then because that couldn’t be _her_ voice, because _her_ voice no longer existed, it had been rendered silent for good.

Because she suddenly remembered Allie lying there, clear as day. The Shower. The Hotshot. The medical lingo. Acute respiratory syndrome.

Allie was _gone_. Allie _wasn’t_ coming back. The Freak took her life.

She fell to her knees on the floor of those same cursed hallways her torn body was carried away from just moments before, as she relieved every agony-filled moment with even more horrifying clarity than before. She screamed Allie’s name to the top of her lungs whilst clutching her throbbing temples, urging every heinous, sickening frame in her mind to _stop_. Just stop.

But no sound filled her ears, not even a single muffled echo. She couldn’t hear anything _again_ for what felt like the most excruciating minutes of her life. She kicked and screamed and wept loud and raw, yet nothing but silence answered back, as her body touched the floor just as the last drop of energy and will to live got sucked out of her.

An eternity later, she was snapped out of her comatose state by the feel of _something_ comforting and warm _,_ a physical sensation, the first one she had since waking up in this nightmare. She couldn’t have missed the feeling of that reassuring hand on her shoulder even if she tried.

“Are you alright, mom?”

Bea’s eyes filled with tears on the spot, recognizing the sound of the only voice in the world other than Allie’s that was etched onto her soul, ingrained. She couldn’t have misheard it. She opened her mouth to say something, but it seemed like no right words were ever invented for a moment like this.

It was Debbie. In the flesh. And she looked as beautiful and as lively as she remembered her, a sharp contrast to the last gruesome picture she imagined over and over to torture herself – Debbie with a needle stuck to her arm, giving her last breath to a world that failed her.

“Debbie…God, I missed you so much.”

She turned around instantly, hugging her daughter like her life depended on it. And maybe it did – because she was the _only_ thing she could feel. She was too scared to think of what that meant.

“I missed you too, mom.” – Debbie answered, crying back all the same.

Bea felt her tears soaking her jacket – and it was at that exact moment that she finally noticed she no longer wore her Wentworth clothes.

She was dressed casually in one of her outside outfits consisting of a denim jacket and a checkered shirt tucked in a high-waist black skirt and her hair was pulled down and back to its fire red, instead of the washed out color from before. She was pretty sure she wore those same clothes when she brought Debbie to the beach, a thousand years ago.

Bea was about to fire a million questions Debbie’s way, when her daughter spoke first, stealing her chance to.

“Is that Allie?” – Debbie asked, her inquiry met with a confused, perplexed look.

“What do you mean, how do you—“

“The girl whose name you were saying earlier, at the beach?” – Debbie explained, a hint of teasing deliberately slipping into her voice, before she stared far ahead, using her hand to point in the right direction to urge her mother to follow her gaze. “She’s right there, mom.”

“But she can’t be… Allie’s _dead_ , she—“

Bea dreadfully followed her daughter’s nonverbal and verbal cues to avert her eyes in a new direction, as the surroundings changed again. She was embraced by the same empty, grey hallways from before, but this time they led her to a hospital room.

If she had any tears left, she would have wept until she fell apart because Allie was there, lying on the bed - ghostly pale, a few pounds thinner, seemingly breathing on her own and, most importantly, _alive_ _and kicking_ , in more ways than one, surrounded by a doctor, a nurse, governor Bennett and Bridget Westfall.

_"Take MY blood, for fuck’s sake, save her! Take MY heart, I don’t need it, take whatever fucking organ you need, just rip it out of me and give it to her. Bring her back, just bring her back..”_

_“Allie, you know they can’t do that. You barely survived yourself.”– Vera intervened, calmly, despite knowing no words known to man would calm the frenzied, hysterical blonde before her._

_“Westfall, look at me.” – Allie commanded, just as urgently as before, ignoring the Governor’s previous words. Her bloodshot eyes switched over to the prison psychiatrist as she snapped her fingers in her face to draw her attention. “I’ll do anything you want, listen to all of your speeches about life and death but you just fucking tell them, okay, you’re a shrink, do some shrinking or I’ll shrink their heads myself as soon as I’m out of this bed if they don’t listen. If they expect me to stand by and eat fucking jello while Bea is in there, they’re a lot crazier than I am and need I remind you I’m a former junkie with a black belt in ass whooping---"_

“Wow, she must really love you. “ – Debbie stated, her tone betraying mild amusement blended with just a dash of quiet appreciation.

But it was nothing compared to Bea’s awestruck, solemn look as she absorbed every word coming from Allie’s mouth and the sheer _desperation_ in her pleas. She was suddenly looking at the frantic blonde like she was falling in love with her all over again.

Unbeknownst to her, the avalanche of tears falling from her eyes left visible traces on the hospital floor. It didn’t matter because no one would see them but the two of them. Allie couldn’t see her. No one could see her _but_ Debbie.

She was petrified to even entertain the implications of that – maybe she had left the realm of the living altogether.

“You love her too, don’t you, mom?” – her daughter interrupted her self-reflection once again, as graciously as she could, reaching for her hand to instill some sort of comfort.

She hadn’t seen her mom this destroyed in her entire life, aside from the day she lost her because she listened to a _stupid_ boy, because she found her escape in the worst _thing_ she could possibly choose _._ Apparently, so did this Allie girl. Maybe her mother just had a knack for fixing the junkies. Or the broken. Or both.

“Is that alright?” – Bea asked, a bit fearfully even though she had no reason to be scared, wiping her eyes weakly, allowing a ghost of a smile to grace her features.

“If you’re asking for my blessing, you don’t even have to.” – Debbie answered, as fiercely as everything about her was. She squeezed her mom’s hand in reassurance once again to keep her from crumbling completely – and it seemed to help, even if just a little. “She’s beautiful, by the way, I can see why you chose her.”

A fresh set of tears instantly formed in Bea’s eyes, despite just drying the last ones, followed by another muffled sob she couldn’t control. She took one final, longing glance at the image before her, as the medical team restrained Allie, handcuffing her to the bed whilst administering some sort of sedative at Westfall’s cue.

In a flash, she crashed, as the artificial sleep finally claimed her – exhausted but calm again, a stark contrast to what she witnessed just moments ago. The image reminded her of the way Allie slept, peacefully, after going through the worst pains of withdrawal because of her.

She looked like an angel. One she couldn’t _have_ or _touch_ anymore.

“I think she chose _me_. And I don’t even know why.”  - Bea sniffled once more, letting go of her daughter’s hand and turning towards her to see her better, as the sight of Allie slowly drifted further and further away before disappearing altogether.  “Am I dead, Debs?”

“Not if you don’t want to be, mom.” – Debbie said, searching her mom’s face for the answer to that unspoken question. All she was met with was unadulterated confusion.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, smartypants? It’s a yes or no question.” – Bea whined, exhaling in frustration and the younger Smith couldn’t help but chuckle in response. Now she knew where she got her stubbornness from, if she ever had any lingering doubts.

“You did want to die, didn’t you?”

It was then that the worst memory of all finally showed its ugly, disfigured face, clawing at Bea with every twisted frame. Debbie looked away in pure anguish, she couldn’t see this one, but Bea watched, like a car crash on the side of the road you know you shouldn’t look at but you just can’t help it.

She watched herself push the panic button, cradling Allie’s lifeless body to her chest. She watched herself rain a tornado of punches on Kaz’ face, before realizing, much too late, that she had nothing to do with the attack. She watched Joan Ferguson’s devious face as she called Allie _“collateral damage.”_

The events unfolded like a movie she couldn’t put a stop to, despite _something_ in her already predicting the gruesome ending. She saw herself once more, ditching the original plan and deal she had with governor Bennett. She saw her own body launching itself onto Joan Ferguson’s screwdriver repeatedly, effectively committing suicide.

But she felt no pain anymore. Because her life didn’t matter without Allie’s, without Debbie’s. She had _no one_. She was ready to die if it meant the Freak would pay for everything she did.

_I win._

Famous last words indeed.

She then saw the seahorses again and it all finally made sense. She remembered everything now. And she would’ve given _anything_ not to.

“I _did_.” – Bea whispered, more to herself, as if she was just coming to terms with that newfound realization. “Allie was _gone_. And I wanted to be with you _so_ badly, Debs.”

“You’ll _always_ be with me, mom. You have to know that.”- her daughter’s soothing voice snapped her out of the torment she was currently relieving, her voice causing the images to fade into obscurity again.

She knew by now that when _that_ happened, something worse was about to follow. There was something _else_ she needed to see. And she was scared out of her mind to even imagine what came next.

“But I don’t think _she’s_ ready to let you go.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was way too emotionally charged for my dumb self who can’t handle any emotions. I need to punch a wall to feel like a human again. In the meantime, enjoy.
> 
> (What I would’ve killed to see on my screen, put into words, in a nutshell. Happy Early angsty Easter, darlings).

_"But I don’t think she’s ready to let you go.”_

“Allie?” – Bea asked, nervously and uneasily at the same time, every syllable of _her_ name flowing so naturally and melodiously from her lips, like it was the one name she wanted to call for the rest of her life. “Is she okay, please tell me she didn’t—“

If she even _had_ a rest of her life left.

“She’s fine, mom, don’t worry. “ – her daughter reassured her in a heartbeat, taken aback by the instant _dread_ and torment she saw taking space in Bea’s eyes. „She’s also...creative, gotta give her that.” – Debbie added, chuckling to herself, as her mother raised a quizzical brow in response. “Sorry. Here.”

With that, Bea was faced with a new sequence, starting in that same hospital room from before. This time, the blonde was only accompanied by Bridget Westfall and she was no longer cuffed to her bed.

_„Heyyy there Bridget, can I call ya Bridget? That’s a beautiful name.” – Allie drawled, fake seductively, deciding to get her flirt on, given that all of the other tactics in her arsenal failed spectacularly on the prison psychiatrist before. Unfortunately for her, Westfall saw right through the act. She was more than aware of the tactic – she had the biggest flirt in the world living in her home as they spoke._

_„What can I do for you now, Allie?”- Bridget asked, feigning professionalism yet sighing exasperatedly at the same time._

_„If I told you I was a danger to myself and I’d literally find a way to kill myself when those bozos aren’t looking, would you give me a pass to see Bea or maybe sweet-talk The Governor a little, warm her up to it?” – Allie continued in that same, fake seductive manner from before, completed by an even more exaggerated wink and a deliberate drop in tone. „I’ll make it worth your while.”_

_„If you were a danger to yourself, Allie, I’d only have the authority to transfer you to the psych ward, not Bea’s hospital room.” – Bridget answered, her gaze and mannerisms betraying equal parts compassion and annoyance. Sure, she went about it the wrong way, but she felt for the blonde, you’d have to be completely heartless not to. She just wasn’t sure she could help her out or if it was even appropriate for her to do so._

_Sensing another tactic failing, Allie dropped her act right then and there and decided to go for blazing honesty. Unlike her shitty parents, it was something she heard shrinks tended to appreciate._

_„Fine. You want the truth? I’m dying every day I don’t see her, Westfall. Psychoanalyze that some more, why don’t ya?” – Allie snapped, meaning to come across as a smartass but ending up sounding defeated and bitter, instead._

_After a lengthy, almost excruciating pause, the blonde finally spoke again, no trace of anything other than pure desperation and hopelessness in her voice._

_„I know I am so out of line right now but I’m beggin’ you, West—Bridget. Just sweet talk Vinegar Tits, she’ll listen to you. Or the medics, tell them it might help if I talk to Bea, the whole talk-to-people-while-they’re-in-a-coma-so-they’ll-wake-up-thing. I’ve seen the movies.” – Allie insisted again and again, before taking out the last secret weapon in her stash. „Don’t you love anyone? How would YOU feel if the entire world kept you apart?”_

_Bridget’s eyes softened at that, involuntarily, as the thought of Franky immediately slipped into her mind. In so many ways, she related to a lot of what the blonde just said – the world was trying to keep them apart every second of every day. Allie took it as a clue that she was finally getting under her skin after days of non-stop trying and groveling._

_„You’d do the same for Franky.” – the younger woman added, as gently and unthreatening as possible, despite Westfall’s face turning ghostly white on the spot „I heard the rumors. And I don’t care, I’m not sayin’ it to backmail ya, I’m just sayin’ it so you’ll at least think about it, okay? I’d owe you one. I’d do anything to repay you and I don’t mean anything sexual, just playin’ before. Franky would kill me, we met. Good choice by the way. Not my type but--”_

_„Okay, Allie, okay, that’s enough.” – the psych cut in, a lot less firmly and certainly than she wanted to sound. Allie flashed her a compassionate look so she’d know she wouldn’t say a thing and Bridget’s eyes softened a little around the edges. She could tell she meant it – the prisoner was no snitch, she was just a desperate woman who would do anything for the one she loved. She didn’t have it in her to be another brick wall opposing that. Unlike other shrinks, she didn’t just talk the talk, she also walked the walk.„I’ll see what I can do for you. But one of these days you will have to attend the mandatory sessions I’m actually here for and take them seriously.”_

_„Thank you so much, Bridget, you’re one of the good ones.” – Allie gushed in sheer gratitude. „Will do, cross my heart.”_

Bea always thought a lot of what Allie did in the past to seduce her was weird as hell but also oddly endearing and the images she’s just seen warmed her heart with the same flaming heat as then, coupled with an ardent, earnest nostalgia.

Because she was reminded of those days, the sequence took her back to everything from before, back to Allie getting under her skin with each seemingly insignificant gesture and word like it was her life’s mission to strip down every fragile defense she ever had.

And she was doing it again, she was making it her life’s mission to get to her.

 _No one_ would go to those lengths for her – it was so Allie and so next level, she didn’t know if she wanted to kiss every inch of her stupid, adorable face or scold her into obscurity like the mother she was for pulling such a risky stunt.

„Did that work on Westfall?”– Bea asked Debbie, going for detached curiosity, yet not even halfway masking the subtle streak of hope that came along for the ride as she spoke. „Also, how do you show me all of these things, what are you, the afterlife Genie?”

Her daughter burst into full-blown laughter in lieu of response and Bea felt that warmth in her chest from earlier only intensify, burning even stronger with each passing moment. Maybe she _was_ alive after all.

Dead or alive, after all, were just _labels_ , relative and reductive, at the same time. They barely scratched the surface of the complex human condition. A lot of people live, but they’re not _alive_. Just like a lot of people find the only touch of _life_ and peace in death, after experiencing nothing but pain and misery down there. Who even knew? Certainly not her.

She wouldn’t have thought in a million years that she’d experience anything similar to this, outside of a really badly directed movie. Least this one came with a Debbie Smith front row center so, whoever wrote it was partly forgiven in her book.

„I’m only helping you see what you already know, mom.” – the younger brunette answered, just as cryptically as before. Bea was about to call her out on it, but she interrupted her, much too quickly. „And kinda but not exactly. Let’s just say it took a bit more convincing than that.”

It was then that Debbie presented her with a bunch of mixed pictures once again, starting with Westfall talking to governor Bennett about Allie’s request and ending with a frail Maxine Conway from Bea’s crew talking to governor Bennett, pushing for the same thing. Even Kaz made the same demands, arguing that Allie might slip back into drugs or do something worse if the Governor didn’t allow it.

The small, perfectly-delivered „ _You don’t want another death on your hands, do you, Governor?”_ and the fact that it came from the mouth of the newly appointed Top Dog seemed to have sealed the deal.  Bea would never braid Kaz’ hair in this lifetime or any other but it was the first moment she felt grateful for her input. And, eventually, it appeared that Bennett cracked and caved – after all, she was pretty sure Vinegar Tits owed her.

What she didn’t know was just how indebted Vera Bennett felt to her, after all the torment she’s suffered at the hands of The Freak. Which was why the Governor might have also pulled some strings to get her higher up on the receiving transplant list after her heart showed signs of surrendering the battle completely – it was her way of fixing her own karma, the one she gave herself when killing her mother.

One died without a heart, one would receive a heart. There had to be some order in the universe restored by that.

„Not just that, but everyone wanted to help. They were so grateful for what you did to put that psycho woman away that all prisoners with clean blood who were a match donated to you.”

Not a second later, Bea was met with the image of a long line of women waiting outside in the hallways, presenting a united front...for _her_. Even after stepping away from being Top Dog. Even after lagging. She was astounded.

“See, mom? You matter more than you think. You made a huge difference for so many people, just look--” – Debbie proclaimed, proudly and lovingly and Bea’s chest clenched painfully for a whole different reason this time.

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t save _you,_ Debbie—“

“Course you did. Every time you protected me from Dad. You’re a hero to them just as much as you’re a hero to me. “

She couldn’t have missed her mother’s face contorting painfully into a grimace that spelled denial and disbelief, at the same time, like she was hearing what she was desperately trying to verbalize but not listening to a shred of it. Or maybe, just maybe, willingly blocking everything out because it hurt too much.

She wasn’t having a word of it and Debbie’s heart stung more than that needle that brought her untimely, tragic end ever could.

“And I was the one who messed up and got involved with the wrong crowd, how is that your fault? I couldn’t save _myself._ ”– the younger Smith cut in once again, the conviction in her words leaving no room for arguing.

But Bea was still determined to do just that. Stubbornness _did_ run in the family after all.

And she was no one’s hero, no bone in her fragile body carried any trace of heroic, she was nothing but a failure who tried but ultimately let everyone down. She wasn’t what Allie saw. She wasn’t what her daughter needed or believed her to be. She couldn’t even get _dying_ right, for crying out loud.

“You shouldn’t have to save yourself, Debbie. _I’m_ your mother. That’s _my_ job. If only I--“

“I trusted the wrong person and that’s on _me_. I should’ve known better, I wasn’t a kid anymore. And you almost died getting revenge for me. You just sacrifice yourself for everyone, don’t you, mom?”

Bea faltered, finally falling silent for a few seconds, just enough to gather her thoughts in search of the right comeback, but she found herself falling short of anything meaningful. At last, she did speak up, a lot more quietly and dejectedly than she even realized.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think it makes any difference. Not if you fail.”

“Are you sure about that?” – her daughter bravely challenged once more, feeling like she wasn’t going anywhere. It was times like these that she really hated the stubborn gene that apparently governed the family.

Met with even more denial and that same self-blame in her mother’s eyes from before, she decided there was no way around it anymore. Maybe this Allie woman could get through to her where _she_ couldn’t. “Because I think you’re wrong. And you’re giving me no other option but to show you why.”

Without notice, without preparing her in any way, Debbie presented her with the longest string of evidence to the contrary. Because she needed to know that nothing she did was in vain, that she mattered and made more of a difference in people’s lives than she realized, that she saved not just her daughter’s life when she sheltered her from Harry’s devious anger by taking every hit until she collapsed on the floor just so _she_ didn’t have to, but someone else’s as well.

She also saved _Allie_.

“They did let her see you, eventually. The whole prison thinks you’re more inspiring than Romeo and Juliet, with all the tragedy. It’s cute, actually.” – the younger Smith pointed out, quite poetically, scrunching her nose adorably as she did. “And if you won’t listen to me, little miss stubborn, maybe you’d like to hear what _she_ has to say.”

Her daughter’s mildly amused voice was the last trace of sound Bea heard, before she was transported to another hospital room - hers, this time. She was forced to watch her comatose body from outside it and it had to be one of the weirdest experiences of her life. That, and hanging out with her ghost daughter in ghost land, just doing ghost things.

She was faced with her own frame hooked to a bunch of machines, looking deathly pale and significantly thinner, judging by her even more defined bone structure that could cut through glass. Not her finest or most attractive hour.

Yet, despite all of that, Allie was _still_ looking at her like she hung the moon, like she put up every single star in the galaxy with her own two hands. She was _still_ holding onto her for dear life, grasping her callous hand lovingly and protectively in her much softer one. She was also holding what had to be her new heart in the palm of her other hand.

Because she did, she always has. No matter whose heart she had, it would always beat for her.

And there was nothing Bea wanted more right then than to somehow _tell_ her that. The cruelest part of this entire ordeal was losing her voice when she needed it the most.

Her eyes began to water unnoticed at the heartwarming sight before her. She only briefly expressed gratitude when her daughter gently clasped her hand in wordless reassurance, before resuming her spot, watching everything Allie did, breathing her in. She was completely transfigured, like there was nowhere else she needed to be more than in _that_ moment, watching over her.

In turn, the blonde returned the favor tenfold, without even realizing it.

_Did you know that seahorses like to swim in pairs?_

_They link tails so they don’t lose each other._

Allie had no clue, but she was her guardian angel all the same. Had been way before she even found herself here, seeing it with a fresh new set of eyes and an even steadier dose of clarity.

She took a deep breath to compose herself, to drive away any and all jitters still governing her ghost form or whatever form she even had now. Even in the afterlife, Allie _still_ managed to make her nervous. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge -  smile or cry.

She quickly looked away from her own lifeless body, not baring the horrifying, depressing view, instead focusing on Allie, on everything beautiful in the world below. She allowed herself to fall completely under her spell, to be immersed in her voice, every calm and soothing inflexion peering into her soul, unraveling her in even more ways than before.

She thought Allie had already crept into every dusty corner of her wounded soul, but maybe she was wrong, maybe she was just beginning.

_“Why’d you go do that for, Bea? You put Ferguson behind bars for good, they finally transferred her, she can’t hurt anyone ever again but God…at what cost? Why’d you have to go be the tragic hero? You already were my hero, you crazy, beautiful woman.. I just wanted you to be safe.”_

_"You gave your life for the last worthy person on Earth. Damn it, Bea..you really know how to pick’em, don’t ya? I don’t deserve you. I couldn’t even..be there for you. And now you’re lying here and it’s all my fault. I should be. I swear to God, I’d let that bitch go all Edward Scissorhands on me if it brought you back.”_

_“But since I can’t do that, I’ll just…keep talkin’ to ya. That okay? Well, you can’t stop me or say no so…checkmate, Bea. Here it goes. I uh…let’s see...what’d you miss... l.. haven’t touched a single drug since we last talked, like I promised. I had the urges from hell. But I meant what I said, Bea, they don’t mean jackshit to me anymore, you do.”_

By this point, Bea was sniffling and wiping her eyes much too slowly to keep up with the steady supply of tears coming, like a waterfall. It was a downright miracle she still had any left. She hated being so weak in front of her own daughter but she couldn’t stop a single one even if she tried.

Debbie shouldn’t have to comfort her, it should be the other way around, for crying out loud, but the younger brunette didn’t seem to mind in the slightest – it was almost like _she_ wanted her to see this, like _she_ was urging her to.

_“…everyone did their part to help out, even Doreen. ‘Bout time those ungrateful bitches grew a conscience and did somethin’ nice for ya. Uh…the doctors say you’re still unresponsive, whatever that means. You’re still in a coma, by the way. Well..obviously, that’s why I’m here. Sorry, I am so bad at this. Anyhow.. they say you might still not wake up anytime soon, even with all the blood transfusions and the new heart and stitchin’ up your other organs. They’re not sayin’ it but I think they’re losing hope. It’s been over a month. But I’m not.”_

By now, Bea had to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she did something right in her miserable life other than bring Debbie into the world, something _else_ that made the universe reconsider and grant her a second chance, the chance to meet someone as amazing as the heartbreakingly thoughtful blonde before her.

What did she ever to do deserve a woman like Allie, again? She didn’t deserve a tenth of what she was saying to her, not by a long shot, especially now when she couldn’t even _reach_ her.

_“Found your drawings a while back, you know... They’re so pretty, why’d you hide them for, you weirdo? I look so much better than in real life which is impossible to do so..you’re really good, Bea. What other hidden talents do you have? P.S. You can’t see me but I’m winkin’ at cha right now.”_

_“I also stole your blanket, by the way. And I’m not givin’ it back until you get up and pry it from my hands yourself. It might be covered in snot and tears but other than that, I took care of it, I promise. I just…needed to feel you there. I can’t sleep without it. And not even Kaz can tease me about that anymore. Think she’s warmin’ up to ya. Suckin’ up to the in-laws, are we, Bea?”_

“She’s funny.” _–_ Debbie remarked, appreciatively, not able to stop that small, involuntary giggle from passing her lips _.“_ I like her.”

Bea smiled back through barely dried tears, the pure Allie-ness of that entire speech making her miss her like crazy, so fervently the longing was nearly suffocating her. Everything inside of her _ached_ for Allie, like she was her home and she had lived an entire lifetime on the road.

She was so agonizingly homesick for a place that was untouchable now. And the fact that her daughter seemed to warm up to the blonde too only made her mourn everything she knew she could never have.

A real family.

 _With_ Allie.  

“She’d like you too, baby. She’d like everything about you.” – Bea choked back, desperately trying but failing to mask the utter pain and heartache in her voice, before lovingly ruffling her daughter’s hair and giving her a weak side hug, her lips barely grazing over her forehead as she did.

Debbie took the compliment like the bubbly, shy, _innocent_ teenager that she was, above everything else – averting her eyes bashfully and blushing adorably and Bea’s heart dropped in her chest even more.

She shouldn’t be _here_. She belonged in Allie’s world.

_“What else…Franky’s pretty decent, you know, when she’s not givin’ me sex tips for when you wake up. That cheeky bitch, why would she think I need ‘em? Anyways, she’s visited you a lot, also helped me out a few times. Guess that makes up for it. Same for Westfall. If we were on the outside, they’re the only two people I’d allow on a double date with us. I’d love to take you out and embarrass you in public, in case I haven’t made that clear before. It’s on my bucket list. Right up there with marry Bea Smith  -  wrote that one when I was at the shelter. Offer still stands. No pressure, tho. I’m not U-Haul-ing you. We have the rest of our lives to think about that, as soon as you wake up.”_

“Mom, what’s U-Haul-ing?” – Debbie asked, innocently.

“No idea, Debs.” – Bea replied, just as clueless, barely holding in her beaming, glowing smile at Allie’s proposition and all of the other perfect things she just said.

She’d have to ask her about that, if she ever got the chance again.

_“I know you can hear me, Bea, I just know it. That’s why I talk to you so much every time they let me, to annoy you into coming back. I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, you have to get back here, you haven’t even seen my best moves yet.”_

To that, Debbie promptly raised a sneaky eyebrow, a million smartass comebacks lingering on her tongue and the widest, face-splitting grin taking over her, completed by a mischievous glint in her eye. She never thought someone could tease her more than Allie but it turned out her own daughter was viable competition.

These two would’ve been disaster together – and that realization didn’t make the stifling yearning in her chest any easier to bear. Maybe it was just something she’d have to carry around with her forever.

_“Get your head out of the gutter, Bea. I was talkin’ about my dance moves. I’m learnin’ how to dance, Boomer’s been repaying me. Y’know, for teaching her about self-massage, remember? That conversation you loved so much? You’ll be pleased to know I only stepped on her toes like 50 times. But I’m gettin’ better. Now all I need is for Franky to tell me your favorite song and give me a real answer, not Baby Got Back.”_

“Aww…she learned how to dance for you, mom, that’s so cute...” – her daughter teased her once again, this time verbally, bumping Bea’s shoulder as she did.

“Shut up.” – the older Smith rolled her eyes at her, covering her face in her hands and blushing all the way down to her toes.

_“Jeez, Bea, if you wanted me to stop rappin’ so badly, you could have just asked. There were other ways to get out of it like, I don’t know, maybe plant one on me? Just sayin’, I wouldn’t have minded at all, y’know.”_

“Okay, I take it back, she’s hilarious.” – Debbie declared, like a definitive judgment of Allie’s character and something about the way she said it felt like the worst punch in the gut for Bea. Unfortunately for her, she was pretty sure _that_ had nothing to do with any of her now healing wounds.

Because _they_ could never meet, not in this universe, at least, whatever this universe even was. Purgatory? Heaven? A line between two worlds that she was barely tethering, waiting to fall on either side at the faintest gust of wind?

“Yeah, well..I’m literally in a coma and she’s _still_ trying to make me laugh. ” – Bea waxed poetically with a dreamy, serene look on her face, one she didn’t even realize she wore, like a badge of honor. “That’s Allie for you.”

Though the lovesick redhead didn’t, Debbie picked up on it right away and her smile could put the brightest sunlight to shame – she’s never seen her mom turn like that around anyone. It was nice.

However, like everything joyful and carefree in Bea’s life, the cherished lightness of the previous moments was short-lived, dissipating no less than a few seconds later. They both felt it at the same time - the energy in the room rapidly switching from pleasant familiarity to stifled heaviness, as the blonde’s last shred of fake bravado crumbled and her muffled sobs filled every corner.

What came next was a shaky voice that didn’t belong to her, confirming the definitive breakdown of the strong, almost indestructible front that she was forced to put up and maintain to perfection for weeks with humor and denial as her trusted shields. As it finally fell apart, one piece at a time, that same knot in her throat that she thought had went away claimed its rightful place once again.

But Allie didn’t let it drown her this time, she still had _too much_ left to say.

_“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I make stupid jokes when I’m scared. And I am so scared right now, baby, I’m so scared. I know it’s not fair and I have no right to do this and I…I want to say that I can but I don’t think I can live without you.”_

_“If Debbie’s there with you now, will you say hi for me? Tell her she has the best mom in the world and she’s so lucky, okay? Tell her I would’ve loved to meet her cause there’s no part of you I wouldn’t wanna know. Tell her to take care of you for me if I don’t get the chance again, will ya? Tell her to do a better job than I did 'cause I know I failed you, Bea, I know I did and I’m so sorry. If you want me to let you go, be with Debbie, then I will. But if you want me to hold on, then I can do that too. I’ll do anything you ask. But I need you to tell me that yourself, baby, okay? Because I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost without you here.”_

Bea wanted to shout _“You could never fail me”_ from the rooftops, wanted to change the entire fabric of the universe so that it would allow her to be there with Allie right _now_ , even if only for a minute, hold her until her arms gave out and kiss her everywhere from her forehead down to her lips with all the love bursting through her chest at this precise moment that she didn’t know _what_ to do with.

But Allie couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her, couldn’t feel her, not the way _she_ was seeing, hearing and feeling her now.

_“Just…squeeze my hand or somethin’…so I know you’re there, okay? No pressure, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here…creepin’ on ya. You’re stuck with me. I’m an Alleycat, remember? We like to follow people around until they kick us to the curb. You’re allowed to do that anytime. Also tease me for cryin’ like a dumbass just now ‘cause I know you wanna, I can feel it. Now’s your chance, Bea. If not, spoiler alert - I’ll probably cry next time too.“_

_“Before I go ‘cause let me tell ya, Smiles is really not smilin’ right now…I want you to know something else. I know you’re probably tired of me rambling by now but suck it up, Bea, this is important. I love you. I love you so much, God.. like I never loved anyone. And I hope you remember that, wherever you are.”_

She barely felt a brief, tentative touch coming from Debbie’s hand grasping her own while her other drew calming circles on her back. She only heard the sound of her heart breaking and scattering into pieces all over the floor before her with every strangled, tragically perfect word coming from Allie’s mouth.

“Jeez, mom, if you don’t marry her, I will. “ – her daughter cut through the tension in a way only she would, voicing quiet agreement and laughing briefly through her own share of tears.

And that’s when Bea let out a shadow of a laugh too, the first real one in forever. She thought she couldn’t even remember _how_ to laugh anymore – but only two people ever brought it out of her.

“Okay, okay, fine, I played along. But _why_ on Earth would you show me all of this, Debs?” – Bea protested, feeling so ill-equipped to deal with the avalanche of emotions currently tormenting her. She sucked at dealing with emotions down _there_ , what made her daughter think anything would be different up _here_?

She was relieved that Allie was fine, as fine as she could be given the circumstances, but she also had a brand new hole in her heart now that couldn’t have been caused solely by Joan Ferguson’s screwdriver. She also had a new heart so that excuse flew out the window, as much as she would’ve loved to use it.

“So you’ll _know_ your life matters too. So you’ll _want_ to live.” – Debbie declared with an odd sense of finality, finding both of her mother’s hands and covering them gently with her own. “Because I want you to. I want you to stop punishing yourself and be happy.”

“But I can’t just leave you here, I can’t let you go, I won’t---“

“I’ll always be with you. Watching over you. But it’s not your time yet, mom.” – the younger Smith added, firmly, but she could still see hesitation and unspoken questions in her mother’s eyes. She was determined to make them both go away. “Remember earlier, at the beach? Why do you think you couldn’t see me anymore, when you crossed over to the shore?”

“Because you hid away from me like the sneaky munchkin you are?” – Bea joked in spite of herself, in spite of knowing the answer to that question too by now, as a pained laugh barely passed her lips.

“Because deep down you didn’t want to be up here. You just thought you didn’t have anything to live for down there.” 

And with that, Debbie dropped the final, most excruciatingly undeniable truth bomb on her, no notice, no warning. She wanted to argue again but even she knew there was no arguing against that. “But you do. You should go back. A lot of people need you. And I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“When did you become so wise, ya little firecracker?” – Bea teased in the most motherly tone she could muster, one she didn’t even know she had anymore, despite everything inside of her breaking. She wanted to go back but she didn’t want to leave her daughter either.

Why did it have to be one _or_ the other?

“I learned from the best.” – Debbie bowed, dramatically, paying her respects as her lips curved upwards into a genuine smile. “And for what it’s worth, I approve.”

“What?” – Bea asked, dumbly, barely resurfacing again from _somewhere_ inside her chaotic mind, plagued by doubts and questions and not now’s.

“Allie, you dork. Where’d you go just now?” – the younger brunette clarified, simply, not even trying to mask her intoxicating amusement at her fidgeting mother anymore. “Though, just for the record, when I said I’m going to watch over you, that doesn’t include you two doing stuff cause I really don’t need _that_ mental scarring.”

Bea’s mouth fell wide open as she turned every shade of scarlett known to man all at once, hiding her face in her hands like _she_ was the teenager. The carefree, honest giggle that followed could’ve warmed the coldest heart in the world.

“Tell her I said hi, too, by the way. I’d also say tell her to love you right or I’m coming down there but I think she’s got that part covered.”

This time around, there were two twin smiles, both gushing over one legendary, lovable idiot whose last name rhymed with Kodak. In any other universe, Bea would have rolled her eyes because of all the cheesiness but, in this one, she was too busy coming to life.

“Also, before I forget, could you ask your tattooed friend where she got that sick ink for me sometime—“

“Okay, Debs, just to be clear, I’m _still_ not letting you get a tattoo. I don’t know the rules of this place but it’s still forbidden.” – Bea commanded, pointing her index finger for emphasis.

“You’re no fun, mom, not even in the afterlife.” – Debbie teased again, but this time her laugh came a lot more hollow than she intended. _She_ would miss her too, to bits.

“You’d better take that back, young lady, or I’m staying here just to ground you.” – Bea faltered just the same, lovingly wiping the small tears that had started to form in Debbie’s eyes. The younger Smith laughed in spite of them and this time around it was genuine. _She_ had to let go, too.

“Then I will. Because you have to go.” – Debbie stated with even more painful finality than before. And with that, she crashed into her mother’s arms for the last time, holding onto her frame tightly for what felt like forever. They stayed like that for as long as they felt they could, but Debbie could hear a clock ticking that _she_ couldn’t.

It was time.

“How do I do that, Debs?” – Bea asked, reluctantly letting go of her daughter’s shaky frame and rubbing her hands together nervously. She really didn’t have _that_ part figured out.

What was she supposed to do? Take the Ghost Express back to Earth? Hitchhike a motorcycle ride from God’s Angels? Hop on a UFO? Fly?

“You let me go. And then you do what Allie said. You’ll find your way back, don’t worry. You always knew the way, I was just here to guide you.”

“I _love_ you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?” – Bea whispered, eventually, barely containing the sobs threatening to wrack her body and crack her resolve right there.

“You too, mom. To the moon and back.” – Debbie voiced back, but this time her speech came uplifting, encouraging even, like she just knew her mother needed that last push more than air.

Not a breath later, Debbie’s frame began to blur and distance itself from her, painstakingly slow. And with that, so did the heaviness, grief and misery in her chest that she’s carried around for years, like an old friend. It slowly lifted away, like the curtain before the final act of a play. Yet, it didn’t mark an ending this time, but a beginning, for it was soon replaced by another ache in her chest, a milder one, one she _could_ live with.

There was no remorse, anguish or guilt anymore, just longing, calm and peace.

This time, everything would be okay.

Because she _wanted_ to live.

For  _them_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I tried to watch season 7 – Wentworth should lower me into the grave so it can let me down one last time. This wrote itself out of spite, at first, then it turned into something more. I wanted to give this story the closure it deserved. Open-ended just felt…natural. It was an honor to have you on board, guys. :) In the legendary words of one Bea Smith: "That's it. I'm done."
> 
> P.S. Inspired by this prompt by @its-just-a-writers-thing on Tumblr: “You almost died, you idiot.” /“Well, let’s just say I’d do anything for you. Even die.”

“Novak for you, governor.” – Smiles announced in her trademark, unenthusiastic voice, holding the door open for a frantic looking Allie who was one breath away from passing out, shifting her weight from one leg to the other in a hysteric frenzy.

She could have ripped that door apart herself if they made her wait a _damn_ second longer.

“Thank you, Ms. Miles.” – Vera answered, dutifully, before facing the prisoner's shifting frame. The governor’s gaze barely managed to trace her swift movements - in a heartbeat, Allie was already plopped down on the chair, tapping her foot rhythmically to the floor.

“So, what can I do for you, Novak? I heard you’ve been rattling all the guards and causing chaos just so one of them would bring you here.”

“Yes, Vin--, I mean governor. Before you slot me, can you please just tell me why I wasn’t allowed to see Bea at all this week? No one’s tellin’ me anythin’, alright, and I…I need to see her, okay, I need to—“ – Allie pleaded, running an angry hand through her hair and biting down hard on her bottom lip, her gestures even more hectic than before.

A sympathetic, barely there smile created a visible dent in Vera Bennett’s professional façade. You’d have to be made of stone not to react, even momentarily, to a heart-wrenching sight like this one.

“ _Please,_  I love her, I’m losing my mind.” – the prisoner added in a shaky voice, her lip quivering as her eyes turned glassy. She unconsciously fumbled with the soaked sleeves of her teal hoodie again, looking for  _some_ semblance of calm…

And failing.

The state of her clothing, her current mannerisms and her blood-shot eyes said it all - it didn’t take a genius to figure out this wasn’t the first time Allie cried today.

Vera Bennett was a tough governor, but a fair one all the same. She wasn’t made of stone, not by a long-shot. Which was why she took a deep breath and decided to take a huge risk, hoping it wouldn’t come to bite her tenfold later.

“Okay, Novak, calm down. Can I get you anything? Water?” – Vera asked, handling a barely held together Allie a packet of tissues.

“I’m fine, governor. Thank you.” – the broken younger woman let out a faint, absent whisper, looking out the window in deep thought, like she was going  _somewhere_ , anywhere but here. She was trying to calm down, steady herself.

She was gazing at the sky.

She hadn’t realized when and how it became her happy place, but it did. She never saw the seahorses again and she’s been searching every single day, lying on her back, watching the clouds shifting shape and floating aimlessly for minutes upon minutes. No luck this time, either.

“The reason you’ve been forbidden to see Smith is because…we’re trying to keep a lid on things.” – Vera explained, cautiously, treading lightly around the subject like Allie was a ticking time bomb that could go off at the slightest wrong move.

The blonde’s eyes immediately turned from the window to face her own.

“Things? What things? I’m not following--”

“Smith is awake.”

“What?”

Allie’s mouth fell wide open as a visible shudder took over her body. Not a second later, every last one of her numb senses awoke too, with the force of a tornado, the sound of those three words still buzzing in her ears long after they were verbalized. She couldn’t have heard… _that_ right.

“She’s no longer in a coma.”

“What?”

She repeated again, jumping from her seat like an arrow, too frenetic to even register (or care) about the obvious risk of getting slotted, before towering over the governor’s smaller frame and slamming her hands on her desk, desperately searching every inch of her face for…answers.

“H-how…w-when? I don’t…I don’t understand---“

Every last one of her words came out with a staccato rhythm, each weaker than the other, until Allie choked on that last whisper alltogether.

She couldn’t  _breathe_. She couldn’t  _move_.

Vera reached for her station and, not a breath later, Will Jackson walked in who was assigned to guard the door from the other side. It didn’t take him more than a look to put and two together. He crossed the room in one motion, grabbing Allie’s shoulders in an attempt to ground her.

She was having a panic attack.

“Novak, Novak, look at me.” – he pressed on, urging the younger woman to focus on him, nothing else.

It didn’t work.

“Just take a deep breath, okay, we’ll do it together.” – Will tried again, calmly, rubbing circles on her forearms in a soothing manner. “That’s it.”

The absent blue-eyed woman weakly followed the instructions, breathing in as much as her still fragile lungs allowed, before a violent coughing fit struck her. What felt like an eternity later, she put up a dismissive hand in the air, followed by  _“I’m fine, I’m fine.”,_  not convincing either of them.

Even in her shocked, disconcerted state, it wasn’t lost on her that Will Jackson was still here. And judging by his face, he had to know  _something_. He had to be in on this too. Allie’s already jagged, halfway put together heart dropped in her chest even more but she was too busy nearly hyperventilating to focus on that.

She needed answers.

Now.

“H-how is…how is Bea awake? Since when? Why won’t you let me see her, please---“– she questioned with urgency, desperation and sheer rage like no other bursting from under every word.

If she wasn’t overpowered by the weight of a million thoughts and feelings raging on, pressing on every inch of her all at once, from her cluttered brain down to her ravaged heart, she would have ripped these two to shreds for keeping her away from Bea, all consequences be damned.

“Have a seat, Novak.” – Vera commanded, maintaining her usual, professional and detached tone, a visible contrast to the lingering empathy in her eyes. This time, Allie complied, crossing her arms defensively.  “Smith woke up two days ago.”

It wasn’t lost on either of them that Allie’s hand balled into a fist by her side instantly. And it wasn’t long before vicious anger and resentment came along for the ride.

“And you kept me  _here_? You didn’t say a word? She woke up alone with…with no one to hold her hand? Y-you fucking heartless monsters—“

“Okay, Novak, that’s two strikes already. One more strike and that’s two weeks in the slot. Do you want that?” – Will warned, sternly, as Allie reluctantly sat back down, biting her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, still basking in stifled anger and…hurt.

“We’re keeping a lid on things. Smith is still in a precarious condition and there are plenty of people who wouldn’t hesitate to attack her when she’s at her weakest. Do you want that, Novak?” – Vera tried to reason with the agitated prisoner again, switching tactics to appeal to her emotional side, hoping it would get her to play ball.

They would need her.

“No…of course not. But no one’s gonna touch her ever again, I swear on my life, they’d have to go through me first—“

“No one’s life will be put at risk again…"– Vera interjected yet again, aiming for composed and put-together, but only halfway managing. “Not while I’m in charge. Which is why, if you want to see Smith again and soon, you’re going to have to play by our rules. We’re going to need you to work with us.”

By this point, Allie would do  _anything_  to see Bea, even if it meant helping the screws or the governor or even the fucking devil.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You can’t tell a single soul. We’re already taking a huge risk telling you this now – I hope you realize that if you do, you could jeopardize her life. Do you understand that, Novak?”

Allie nodded mutely, feeling a knot steadily rising in her throat. She failed to protect Bea once – if she was given a do-over, she wouldn’t fail twice in a row. She’d rather die  _herself_  than allow that to ever happen again.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, Smith is going to be kept under strict medical supervision for at least 3 weeks. After that, she will go through physical therapy. She won’t be able to walk on her own for a while. We want to keep her in medical for as long as possible and only move her back into general when she’s made a full recovery. We need you to keep this a secret – not even Proctor can know,  _no one_  can know. There’s respect and support for Smith now but that can always change and we can’t risk any retaliation, given the history of this place. In exchange, we will arrange visits for you at night, after everyone is asleep. But you will have to be discreet about it – Mr. Jackson will escort you. Those are the terms, Novak, non-negotiable. Do you copy?”

“Yes…” – Allie replied with a slight delay, still processing everything she was just told. “I’ll do anything you ask. I promise. You can trust me. I just, I need to see her, I’m beggin’ you—“

The Governor and Mr. Jackson shared a look, nonverbally planning their next course of action together. Mr. Jackson sent an approving nod in the governor’s direction, before they both turned towards an anxious Allie who was now chewing on her nails, unaware of her own behavior.

“First things first, Novak. Now, I’m going to make an exception out of good faith and not slot you this time because you are willing to work with us, but you will still be punished – you got two weeks of extra work – laundry and kitchen – for your inappropriate behavior towards the guards. Repeat that offense again and you will get slotted.”

“I understand. I won’t, I promise. I’ll clean up the whole prison if you want but please, _please_  let me see her. I’ll--” – Allie trailed off, wracking her brain in search of even more bargaining chips. “I’ll do anything. Add 50 more years to my sentence, I don’t care but will you just--“

“You can see her tonight, after the count.”

Allie’s face lighting up like a Christmas tree and that nearly extinguished spark in her eye flickering again could have warmed the coldest heart in the world. So much so that the slightest trace of a smile appeared on the Governor’s face too.

“R-really?”

“I’m taking a huge risk for you, Novak, don’t make me regret it. Remember – she’s under a heavy dose of sedatives and painkillers so we don’t know if she’ll be up. But you can still talk to her, just don’t rattle her too much.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” – the blonde exhaled in pure relief, her eyes filling with a different set of tears this time. She didn’t even bother to wipe them, she didn’t care. “Thank you so much, governor. For the record, I think you’re one of the good ones.”

It was then that Allie stopped her anxious pacing just enough to realize something - thishad to be the first time she breathed normally since walking in here – as normally as her still fragile lungs allowed.

“No flattery necessary, Novak. Just hold on to your end of the bargain and we won’t have a problem. We’re done here.” – Vera Bennett said with finality in her tone, nodding in Will’s direction, as he escorted a much calmer (and happier) Allie out of her office.

A goofy smile flashed across the prisoner’s face for a second, before she straightened her shoulders, looked far ahead and let it fall on purpose. She had a mask to put on and perfect from now on – she was determined to keep this a secret, for Bea’s sake. The hardest one to evade would surely be Kaz. But Allie could move past the guilt and manage that – she wouldn’t suspect a thing.

She would manage anything for her.

True to her promise, she did just that, passing the first test with flying colors. She walked back to her cell slowly, already picturing every detail about tonight on the way, all the while doing her best not to let a single trace of excitement show. When she reached her unit, she breezed past Kaz, offering her a weak smile, before locking the door and crashing on the bed with a heavy, charged exhale. She finally felt this huge weight she’s been carrying around for weeks slowly get lifted off her shoulders…

She hadn’t even realized how heavy the load’s been and how hard it’s been pushing on her until it gradually crumbled then dissipated into nothing. With more breathing space to compose herself and think now, her brief solace was soon replaced by even more shock and utter disbelief than before, maybe blended with a touch of denial, too.

She couldn’t believe Bea was alive.

 _Her_  Bea.

Away from prying eyes, in the confines of this much too small and empty space, she finally allowed herself to cry again, clutching that red blanket on her bed to her chest like a lifeline. It didn’t bring the woman who wore it like a badge of honor any closer to her…but it was a start.

It would have to do. For now.

It managed to ground her, even if only for a moment. Because she could still feel Bea’s scent etched onto every piece of fabric. Or maybe the scent was so burned in the back of her mind that she couldn’t let it go, couldn’t forget it even if she wanted to. Days could pass, weeks could pass, years could pass and she would  _always_ feel her right there, lingering on every space and every corner, drowning her senses like she never even left.

And maybe she did leave, but she always knew in her heart that she would return. Everyone else might have given up on her but Allie never could.

She didn’t know how much time she actually spent crying, weeping even, until all she had were soft whimpers and then…nothing but calm.

And  _silence_. For once, neither felt deafening or suffocating.

She welcomed the new, peaceful sensation, still holding that red blanket protectively in her hands with a barely there grasp, all the fight and fire in her slowly, but surely, dying off. Those beautiful drawings on top deserved any kind of treatment but her tears messing up every finely traced line but …she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t waitany longer. It was all she still had to do.

It proved to be easier said than done.

These final hours passed by agonizingly slow. She couldn’t remember what she ate or even if she did. She couldn’t remember if it was rainy or sunny or cloudy outside today. She couldn’t remember a single word of what Kaz said to her or any of the other women, still trying to instill hope and faith in her, graciously failing to realize one thing:

She  _always_  had hope and faith. She always knew that Bea would beat this, too. Because she was a fighter, she was the strongest woman she knew.

It was  _longing_  that drove her insane.

That’s what this was. She longed to hold her again, kiss her again, trace her every feature with her own two eyes just to make sure this wasn’t a cruel dream, that it was real, that she was actually there, in the flesh, that she came back…

To  _her._

“Ready to go, Novak?”

She never thought she’d say this in a million years but hearing Mr. Jackson’s gravely, but oddly soothing voice in her ear, snapping her out of her trance anchored her just the same. She couldn’t believe it – she was actually growing fond of this man she considered competition not too long ago. She could see why Bea had a special bond with him now – he really was one of the good ones, as good as a place like this allowed.

“Always, Mr. Jackson.”

Every shaky, wobbly step she took from her cell down the hall to Bea’s hospital room matched her frantic heartbeats – she had to literally stop herself from running like a lunatic or drawing any unwanted attention. She didn’t miss the soft, encouraging smile on Mr. Jackson’s face that only slightly matched hers, as he stopped right at the door, holding it open for her.

Because it could never get close to the radiant smile she wore now and all the stories it told. Happiness felt so foreign, so out of place on her now.

“I’ll give you some privacy…” – Mr. Jackson announced, before closing the door behind him. “If you need anything, I’m right outside.”

The second she found herself on her own, Allie could have sworn she forgot how to walk, breathe like a normal person or even think. Her senses failed to process the nauseating smell of medicine that used to make her so sick when she laid on a very similar hospital bed not too long ago, the blinding lights that used to bother her so much or even that scratchy, steady beeping that used to drive her crazy.

None of it mattered now.

Her eyes darted straight to Bea’s sleeping frame, too small and frail for that much too large bed, almost swallowing her whole. She didn’t know how but…she still managed to fill every space with grace and strength, almost effortlessly.

Allie’s heart skipped a beat on sight…or maybe twenty. Because Bea was stillbreathtakingly beautiful from where she was standing. She always has been.

She  _froze._

Her breathing returned to the staccato rhythm from before, as her heart fluttered, then picked up in tempo all the same. Her hands suddenly felt so clammy and her throat was so dry that no attempt to swallow that knot still stubbornly stuck in there seemed to do…anything.

After all this time, she  _still_ made her nervous.

Déjà-vu struck her like a sharp arrow to her every sense - no heads up whatsoever. It just dawned on her that everything about this felt like her first meeting with Bea all over again.

_I’m Allie Novak._

If she didn’t just relive that treasured memory down to the last detail, she was pretty sure she would have forgotten her own name, too. She cleared her throat, blinking once or twice to steady herself, then shook her head, before rushing to Bea’s side like she would fall apart right there if she didn’t.

Least her legsstill worked. Barely.

She absentmindedly grabbed a nearby chair with shaky, unpracticed, even clumsy movements, before sitting down by Bea’s side. If she realized one thing by now, it was that she belonged there.

And she never belonged anywhere in her entire life.

“H-hey, beautiful…” – Allie sniffled slightly, grabbing hold of Bea’s callous hand, her lips faintly ghosting over her skin. “It’s me.”

Those were all the words she could force out of her tense chest before the floodgates opened – no notice, no warning. She didn’t know if it was seeing Bea after all this time or seeing her like  _this._  Frail and pale and thin but warm, _so_  warm.

Her tears fell like a heavy snowfall, engulfing everything in sight, from her blood-shot eyes to her ivory cheeks to Bea’s hand that she was now holding with an iron grip.

“I… I missed you so much, I…”

She didn’t even notice how hard she held onto it…until something shook it right back, a lot more gently, feather-light even, the contrast causing Allie’s downcast eyes to shift immediately. She didn’t catch the movement but she  _felt_  it.

Was it all in her head?

“A..Allie…?”

Allie’s heart could have stopped right there.

For a moment, it did.

“Bea…? Can you hear me?”

A shiver traveled from her hand again down to her entire body, like she was struck by lightning. Whatever it was, it instantly shook her back to life.

“Y-yeah…Hi..”

Because all she’s been doing for over a month now wassurvive…and hardly so. She thought she no longer even knew what living looked like anymore.

Until  _now._

“Hey…” – the younger woman exhaled softly, the knot in her throat tightening its grip on her even more. She gulped nervously, still so ill-equipped to deal with  _that_ look on her again. She forgot what it felt like. Now, more than ever, she ached for it to never go away.

“You’re here. You’re  _here_.” -  Allie frantically jumped from her seat, throwing all caution to the wind, kissing Bea’s temple and cheeks and every inch of her face that she could touch with her lips with ardent need and urgency, her still-falling tears soaking every space in their wake.

She was so lost in her fervor she only belatedly remembered Bea’s injuries.

“Shit..I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, am I hurting you?” – Allie backpedaled, that sudden pang of regret and guilt snapping her out of her mesmerized state in an instant.

Bea’s equally tired eyes zoomed in on Allie, her lips curving upwards weakly, as she attempted to readjust her position. The blonde didn’t hurt her before but Bea's injuries  _were_ making her flinch now. The younger woman was so focused on her every gesture, she didn’t miss a beat. She sprung into action immediately, rushing to her soulmate's side again, steadying her with a gentle touch on her back.

Allie never could stand the sight. From now on, she’d make sure  _“hurt”_  was a shade Bea would never have to wear. Ever again. Not while she was still alive and breathing.

“Y-you could never. Unless you start rapping again…”

Allie let out a ghost of a laugh through choked tears, the first trace of a real one. Because only Bea would make light of a situation like this. 

“Then I won’t…I promise.”

As the blonde's pitiful attempt at laughter died down, she inched closer to Bea again. Her fingers brushed across the redhead’s cheeks so cautiously and tenderly, like she was made of glass, following her every curve and scar in quiet wonder to make sure she was real all over again. It wasn’t lost on her that Bea’s breathing turned heavier, then hitched in her throat even more with every touch – because every tremble that took over her skin passed onto Allie, too.

She was shaking again. Like the first time she kissed her.

_It’s cold._

_It’s not cold._

Her heart monitor picked up in rhythm instantly and the faintest color rushed to her cheeks. The warmth of her skin and the light in her eyes was enough of an indicator that Allie wasn’t dreaming.  If she was, she’d destroy anyone who dared to wake her up right now.

“D-don’t cry…”

Those words made her fall apart entirely. Because, after all this time, Bea still looked at her like that. After all this time, she still cared about  _her_  pain more. Even if she failed her. Even if she wasn’t there when she needed her the most.

“I’m trying, I…I’d do anything you ask, you know that, don’t you?” – Allie asked, almost hesitantly, whimpers still ravaging her, filling her entire chest with even more crushing guilt _._  “But I don’t think I can stop…I can’t believe you’re here, I…God, I’m so sorry, Bea, I’m  _so_  sorry—“

_I don’t deserve you._

“You have to stop apologizing to me.” – Bea’s voice wavered all the same. She was so angry at her frail condition – because it only allowed her to manage a light, powerless squeeze of Allie’s hand and a pained smile when she  _ached_ to do so much more.

“No, I  _have_  to, okay? I  _failed_  you, I—“

“You could never fail me.”  - the fragile redhead pressed on in concrete conviction, finally voicing the words she needed Allie to hear, more than she needed the very air she breathed. “And you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

Not even the throbbing aches she felt everywhere, from her chest to her abdominal muscles could compare to the weight of the blonde’s broken gaze boring into her own right now, wrecking everything in its path.

“This is on  _me_ , Allie, it was my decision.”

She would have taken 10 screwdrivers over this any day.

“You almost died, you idiot.. “ – the shattered blonde let out a choked sound between a laugh and a sob, her fingers brushing slightly along the curve of Bea’s neck. The fact that she said it with absolutely no fire, just concern and affection made the redhead’s heart skip a beat right there.

She was right before. It didn’t matter whose heart she had – it only did that for her and  _because_  of her.

“Well, let’s just say I’d do anything for you.” – Bea voiced back with even more tenderness, lifting her arm with all the limited strength she still held, reaching out to wipe the tears still lingering in Allie’s eyes with the back of her thumb.

The gesture only made more of them materialize out of thin air in those sky-blue orbs that she loved so much, those eyes that always saw  _too_   _much_ in her. Allie’s tears fell steadily onto every inch of her hand, one drop at a time, like a light summer shower.

“Even die.”

It soon morphed into a waterfall.

“Don’t even joke about that…it’s not funny…” – her loaded glance dropped even more, as her heart clenched tightly with raging survivor’s guilt, overpowering everything else.

_How can she joke about this?_

“Look at me.” – Bea tilted her chin, forcing Allie’s bloodshot eyes to inch upwards. What stared back at her was nothing but sheer love and adoration, that heartbreakingly beautiful view causing a pained grimace to settle on Allie's face instantly.

"You are everything to me, do you know that?”

This time, she had to shut her eyes, not bearing a sight she never deserved, her bottom lip quivering even more. 

“So if I didn’t have you, I had nothing, no reason to be here.”

She couldn’t  _hear_  it, either.

The conflicted younger woman choked on her tears even more. By this point, it was a wonder she still had any left. She reluctantly leaned into Bea's touch this time, needing to feel her there, breathe her in. But everything inside of her  _still_ rejected the words.

“I don’t regret it, Allie, I know that’s what you want to hear but I won’t lie to you. I’m not sorry for what I did. I would do it all over again if it kept you safe.”

They hurt too much. She wasn’t worthy of a singleone.

“What about you? Who keeps _you_  safe?  - Allie shot back with an unexpected rush of anger, this time leaning back just enough for Bea to see her face clearly as she said it.

 _She_  needed to know too. She had to listen.

“You never even gave me the choice.” – Allie cut in again, with even more force. By the time the younger woman heard the resentment in her own voice, she faltered, dramatically.

She’d  _make_ her listen, if she had no other option.

“I couldn’t. “

Bea's honest, strangled answer only aggravated the blonde's anger – she had no right, no idea where it was even coming from but it did – in steady waves.

“Why? Why do  _you_  get to be the tragic hero—“

“Because I love you.”

Allie blinked rapidly, as a soft gasp tore out of her, the sound of those tragically perfect words taking all of her previous fire and fury with it, one labored breath at a time.

“I love you.” – Bea repeated, steadier, like a mantra. “So that makes it  _my_  choice.”

The blonde’s earlier fire fizzled out even more, spark by spark until there was nothing left of her but a soft, entranced smile and a million questions looming above her.

“I’m still not sorry for what I did…I’m sorry that I hurt you. You have to know it’s the last thing I would  _ever_ do --”

“Never scare me like that again.” – a much calmer, serene Allie whispered, resting her forehead against Bea’s, counting her every fragile exhale, before placing a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “Because I love you too. And when I thought I lost you, I might as well have died too.”

“I’m not..I’m not going anywhere now…ever, okay?” – the readhead spoke in a breathy, hoarse tone, her lips still tingling, already missing the sensation. She forgot what it felt like,  _everything_ it did to her. She had so much catching up to do. “We’re linked together…like seahorses. Wherever you go, I follow.”

“Good thing we’re in prison, huh? No one’s going anywhere.” – Allie joked…but it wasn’ther joke. She would’ve given anything to be anywhere  _but_  here.

“Good thing we’re in prison.” – Bea voiced back, weakly, mirroring her thoughts to a T. The fact that this beautiful woman was still trying to make her laugh when nothing about this whole situation was even in the neighborhood of funny made her feel like a giddy, dumbstruck teenager.

Because no one would ever do that for her…. _but_  Allie.

No one even assumed she’d need it.

“So, Bea….about that rap thing, is that still off the table?” – Allie asked, a teasing smirk settling on her face, as she lovingly tucked a loose curl behind Bea’s ear.

“Bring some earplugs next time and we have a deal.” – the frail redhead teased back then hesitated, as realization flashed across her eyes. “There will be a….a next time, right? You will be back?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You’re stuck with me so…” – Allie’s voice faltered on purpose, as a sneaky glint appeared in her eyes. In a flash, her hands were already on both sides of Bea’s face, drawing her in gently and carefully. This time, every brush of her lips was slower, more calculated, longer, filled with nothing but hushed promises and devotion. “Sucks to be you, I’m never letting you out of my sight—“

Satisfied that she made her point, she pulled away, leaving a stunned, mesmerized redhead to pick up the pieces of her fallen jaw…and failing.

“Well  _that_ won’t be a pretty sight for you.” -  Bea joked a million years later, her eyes shifting to her own frame, self-consciously. She had to look terrible. She felt terrible, physically – weak and scrawny, too. Goodbye muscle tone. Not the time to be vain but…

“You’re right.” – Allie voiced her (apparent) approval…before planting another languid, loving kiss on Bea’s forehead. “It'll be a very  _beautiful_ sight.”

“Doubt it.”

“You’re lucky you’re injured or I would’ve injured you myself for that.”

Mr. Jackson clearing this throat in a polite interruption (but interruption, nonetheless) couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“I’m sorry, Novak, time’s up.”  - he announced, sending an apologetic smile in Bea’s direction, too. She reciprocated, only barely. “Looking good, Smith, even got some color in those cheeks now.”

Bea gasped softly, then covered her entire blushing face in her hands, before burying her head in the crook of Allie’s neck. The smitten blonde could have fallen in love with her all over again – maybe a part of her did.  Because she couldn’t have looked more adorable even if she tried.

“Thanks, Mr. Jackson. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

“This place keeps you young and happy, huh?” – he chuckled and twin, goofy smiles greeted him in perfect sync.

Allie alsochuckled stealthily under her breath – she was pretty sure she aged 20 years in these last few weeks. That light thought was short lived, though – she had other, more important things to do.

She briskly turned towards a clueless Bea once again, almost on cue, not in the least embarrassed by Mr. Jackson’s presence, like her other, more jittery half seemed to be.

 _Other half_ …

She liked the sound of that.

Without a word, she rushed to Bea’s side and kissed her with all the love she had bursting in her chest right  _now_ that wouldn’t let her breathe _._ She didn’t know if it was because shy was one of her favorite shades of Bea or even the lingering relief she felt or this growing, crushing need to show her, somehow, that she’d do  _better_  this time.

“I love you. I’ll be back, soon, okay? Don’t wander too far..”  - she added, pulling away from Bea’s lips just enough to squeeze her hand in reassurance once again.

Maybe it was all of the above.

“W-where would I even go, Allie? Prison, remember?” – a dazed redhead barely stuttered back, everything in her, from her lips down to her toes vibrating with jitters from the aftermath of that kiss. It was different from all the times Allie kissed her before – she didn’t know  _what_  changed but something did.

It wasn’t a bad change. It only left her aching for more.

“See you soon.” 

It was the only string of words she could muster that would make this sound and feel like less of a goodbye.

“I love you, too.”

As Allie’s frame faded from view, Bea exhaled dreamily, staring out the window, feeling… _lighter._  And  _hopeful._

That’s what _this_  was. It was so unfamiliar, but a welcome brand of unfamiliar nonetheless.

Because she couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t dread the dawn of a new morning since getting locked-up in here.

She couldn’t remember the last time she looked forward to  _anything_ other than lay her head down and hide from the world.

She couldn’t remember the last time she not only felt alive but wanted to  _stay_  alive, too.

Or maybe it all started when Allie caught her arm and didn’t let go when the entire world did.

Maybe it started when Allie kissed her and breathed life into her when all she really knew how to do was survive.

_It’s cold._

_It’s not cold._

She didn’t know why her thoughts led her back to that day again and again like there was a coded message to be deciphered, hidden in plain sight. Every last one of the flashing images in her mind hit her with this odd sense of déjà-vu that she couldn't shake.

Unlike everything that ever struck her,  _this_  didn’t hurt.

Because this time, she wasn’t urging her heart to stop hammering so loudly, to go back to its quiet, composed, numb state from before. From now on, she would always welcome the throbbing echo traveling from her ribcage to her ears, knowing that every certain and steady beat of her heart would always spell Allie’s name like it was meant to beat just for her.

_Prison, remember?_

It didn’t feel like one anymore.


End file.
